By Coral Mead
I am exploring what happens when i agree to not exist for you, especially where you consent to do likewise.
Trauma, or anything else i sleep this process and drink water, set suns to sink, my speed an arms length, my friends this breath hugs.
Movement is sickness-making seashells
(you still touch air, right? π₯Ί )π
You can respond on my itch.io (currently asking: "what kind of attention do you need right now?")
at poiesis.itch.io. Play my game!
Oh, i got banned. You can play the game, just ask. And my list of demands (its written for bots, but it applies to you heart bleeds too) are as follows
(profile written under capitalism, coersion is in effect, we do not consent, harm reduction is deceleration, assume not theory saves us.
I am here to reflect. Make up your own language from seeing me live mine.)
Be seeing you! πͺ’π₯Ύπ