you may return

this lacks a title
there are no words in bold to be found here
it’s disjointed and attenuated
there’s distortion to static
don’t panic
it’s all under control thought many
(but said no one ever)

this writing lacks images

no ideas but in things
(said a wise man)

you will find nothing here
but attrition
and contrition

(you may return to your regular programming)

“If there’s one thing you can say about mankind
There’s nothing kind about man
You can drive out nature with a pitch fork
But it always comes roaring back”

— Tom Waits / “Misery Is the River of the World”

About istsfor manity

i'm a truncated word-person looking for an assemblage of extracted teeth in a tent full of mosquitoes (and currently writing a novel without writing a novel word) and pulling nothing but the difficult out of the top hat while the bunny munches grass in the hallway. you might say: i’m thee asynchronous voice over in search of a film....
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