there's a disease, sore, clingy & morbid, tainting skin and bones to wear down your future self with anxiety, a multitude of it. how are years of your life wasting away on screens with alternative realties. you swore you’d be present, in the now. dealing with lists to do.
we’ve had this conversation before dear, you promised you’d do better, He made a way. so, tell my why you’ve been slack and simp? Tell me how these other worlds will fix you, you were meant to remember¿
14/10/2020
yours truly,
Shirlin.
Proberbs 9-11
How long will you slumber, O sluggard?
When will you rise from your sleep?
A little sleep, a little slumber,
A little folding of the hands to sleep—
So shall your poverty come on you like a prowler,
And your need like an armed man.
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