The TV is playing car races and all i

The tv is playing car races and all I feel is a drill inside my skull

Thinktweet: does anyone else feel the same way?

That’s all we’re ever tweeting

I get synesthetic sometimes

The sink smells like bleach so much tonight

It’s blinding me but I have to drown my face

I just made this poem up how good am I

The anxiety of holding all the lines in while you’re doing X

Save my most brilliant ones for later

Like holding out on the climax or if theyre into that sort of thing, the One

Zeroes

Knew a friends friend who drank bleach and listened to senses fail

I did on the bus too but

Kind of wished I was balls enough

Gained a lot of weight since landing in point “b”

Not sure which bullet were on

I get self conscious when i want to share everything but who wants to hear it

i say sorry to them in my head and delete the idea

am i alt lit enough

i am also not clear on the intellectual prop rights of tweets and that scares me

what better being a private owner or being a kibbutz

when does this poem ever end how do i know

This juice I made up in my head that im holding tastes like guar gum distilled

T/F it’s healthy for me to “do a cleanse”

I’m already thinking of my next tweet while I write this

Science please explain to me the meta

has anyone favorited my “everybody likes me” post yet

What will that mean

Am I a sensation yet or will I have to see once I’m dead

Once my hard drives and multidirectional scrawl brawls are deciphered

itll be less embarassing then

Have one and a half paintings due in ten days

Kilo lol

^wrote “lololol” but my phone knows better than i do

Can’t decide whether I work better under pressure

Can’t decide if I am properly using “whether” or whether an “or not” or explication of the other hand is appropriate

Not about what’s appropriate but what’s clear

Are they ever divergent

All you have to do is sit down and bleed

But I write to dissociate

I’m hungry but

I go to the fridge and feel nothing

I’m nauseous a lot now

Starting to get back on the internet

Proceeding with caution or maybe lol

It’s eleven fifty seven but really how can we be so sure

Google as God now

What does IRL stand for

Can’t remember my passwords

Can’t decide whether I remember my birth or just the film I’ve made produced by way of repetition an evolution of the story

Can’t remember if I remember actually emerging with the force of forceps clamping temples and seeing half a neutral blue-green

hospital wall underneath a khaki window half open with bliding sunlight idk

Or maybe that was my brother when I wasn’t in the room i remember saying he looked like a rat

Or maybe I dreamt it

Classic plot twist

Texture of a Twizzler

Am i a sensation yet or just a string of senses constipating sentences

About Allison Hauser

Allison Hauser lives in Florida. She is a writer and visual artist. Her work can be found through her website. Follow her on Twitter.

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