We forget that the minotaur doesn't just eat people. We sleep and wake and our waking is another form of sleep. She relays all the bad things men have done to her over the years and we begin to realize that deepening our study was not the kind of answer we thought it was. Legato then.
Pretentious clowns next door, overly impressed with their role in the culture, making arguments that nobody takes seriously. Always ask: what is the light in which darkness is visible? Narrative threads that are themselves a maze.
Amazed, amazing, amazing grace. Salty waves crashing over the bow. We leap into starlight and land with a thud, soft cock in hand, the fire low but attended by serious women for whom cocks are sometimes a pleasant distraction.
Absent names, what?
Oh but listen, reading Darwin and Freud is super helpful! Being performative, practical. Dad's pride when it came to handguns. Kali energy. Always ask: whose loss is this exactly?
Skipping class, skimming texts: that guy.
That death, last breath, that bread.
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