automatic writing: #27

        flapping butterfly wings inside the wardrobe with the skeletons

fireflies circle the bulb

a low wattage casts small shadows over this thing
                         over this everything 
of empty petrol station forecourts

wastelands of concrete where shoes hang from telegraph wires
all the stereotypes I know

(but how many of them are true?)
she frantically searches the book shelves for the answers and writes angry letters to the council about the lack of WI-FI at the local library 
she sits on the roof to get a better view of the constellations which she can’t see from here 

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