10/01/2024
Today I billed nine hours and went shipping. I feel empty and clean. Like a vessel for capital. A streamlined vocation. I eat money in my dreams. It fills me, warm and fluffy, like shredded eggs. Whip the money up in a canister. It will not turn to snow. Green snow, on the white Capitol steps. Green hair poking out around the ears. I am not the same as you. I know that. I am not someone who can be redeemed.