echolalia of the unexpected

slight return, 

wardrobe. 

oil extraction, 

floor drop

plucked pleasure 

tucked, verbal 

hangover synching 

chew fat with the inmates

so this month i correctly counted that there were 13 post days in the month yet only wrote 12 bits. but luckily, i wrote some spare poetry in june 2024. you never know when you will just need a line or two to get you through a fallow patch.

i’d been sick with autistic burnout, i wasn’t exactly cured, but i knew that my problems weren’t going to go away and i needed to find some energy to get out of the hole i was in.

things are going good now though.