i got a new idea for a story

Two dreamers step into an elevator hovering on the nineteenth floor and are instantly struck by the loveliness of the other. Aware of the immediacy and ephemeral nature of the circumstance, their love is exhausted in a shrunken amount of time so that they may fully express themselves before arriving on the first floor.

Imagine for a moment how this might appear to the outsider: not as an appendage truncated at the forearm, but the full picture minimized in all of its splendid details. The whole thing is there, burning brightly as the ground comes closer, and the elevator doors open, and their eyes are alight with precipitation.



I like sending letters as much as receiving them.

\

god failed us & so we shaved his horn.

look what we did

spill

capital g

good grief

better than bad grief.

//

Bethany looks into his turning black circles, suppressing a sigh. They didn't seem so dark now as they held their gift. Not opaque, but something worthy of conquering, and she would try.

#

the future comes like a stampede, and we are its trampled victims.