My accountability is literally like an anti-histamine.

I need people willing to belittle me and thin out self-proficiency so I don’t start my bickering about entrepreneurial ideas I’m considering.

Unproductive tendencies are like the killer bees I keep forgetting.

I avoid admitting imperfection by omitting what I’m mortgaging for leverage in competitively absent cellar dwellings.

Dreams are healthy places to be resting.

Except when they turn into an overwhelming parallel reality with terror stitched into the bedding.

I don’t run away because escape’s compelling.

I’m dodging the sentries on patrol inside the fledgling of perspectives that I hold to keep me broken and repelling.

– D K T



life ends. why pretend

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