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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