I ramble. I’d like to say that I write, but I don’t. I ramble. I ramble here. Most of this comes from moments of inspiration buried deep in the bleak pedestrian life I’ve built around me, built upon from nothing, into nothing, and out of nothing, until it’s formed, stark and bare like an exposed nerve, and displayed here for you.

Don’t go any further with it.

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flash fiction. thoughts on writing.