It’s frogs.

crying while looking at pictures of lascaux cave

My ills are reticulate

My woes are granular

The ants weigh more than the elephants

Nothing, nothing is manageable

the cats at home

I'll soar the uneven wind, complain and blame the sterile land

But if you're getting any bright ideas, quiet dear

I'm blooming within

please please please please please please

she could stumble up to my door in Texas or show up in North Carolina or she could be in a tent city in Delaware or in a county jail or in a regular hospital or in a psych hospital or in a squat doing drugs or in DC in a hotel or halfway home or across the country she could be anywhere and be ok she could be fine please let her be ok

this is fucking unbearable

if the afterlife isn’t a never-ending game of trivia then wtf am i even preparing for

anosognosia

the unpleasantness

every cell in my body is dying (emotionally)