Journal

notes from a night with Saint Genet May 17, 2013

Walking alone, standing, overwhelming sensation of death as we await for everything to start
give me a hand
we are all lost
Don't you fucking look at me that way, so sideways
Slow-motion spinning porcupines
I can feel you piercing my skin
we are all dead
Walk slowly, tell me secrets
The unbearable feelings that you are all robots
>> can you please begin the entrance of Sir. Carl Lawrence
moments are announced, beginnings 
fucking sit down you people - is that what you are thinking?
…it hasn't even started yet

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