{"sf1_id":1980319,"sf2_id":"0mvzEymv","title":"slutever: a found poem of her words","author":"wrenquire","words":258,"posted_at":"2023-04-26T04:10:00.000Z","tags":["Found poem","Poem","Poetry"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1980319-slutever-a-found-poem-of-her-words","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/0mvzEymv","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/8a/fd/8afd859f-0464-4418-9b2b-b023c28eaf1c","description":"A found poem made out of messages exchanged with  CrimsonFlowers. Her words arranged by me.","content":"slutever\n\nno one on this earth understand\n\nnone get me\n\n  \n\nim one woof in a sea of experiential static\n\n  \n\nuse it.\u0026nbsp;\n\n  \n\ni often feel like the entirety of human experience could be expressed as a hodge-podge of electromagnetic energy charging through our bodies\n\n  \n\nand sometimes, when im super lucky, my spinal cord decides to pick up a snippet of static and i listen very very closely\n\n  \n\nmost of the time, its very sad.\n\n  \n\nbecause when i discern pieces of information \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; like shells on a beach\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;form an image \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; flipped \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; in sequence, i am driven to produce incomplete narratives\n\n  \n\ni am driven to produce incomplete narratives\n\n  \n\ni am driven to produce incomplete narratives\n\n  \n\n. and these incomplete narratives often speak of abandonment, loss, and the mundane.\n\n  \n\nmy favorite, though. are the supernatural. and the metaphorical\n\n  \n\npsychological impulses tracing through live wires. and blessing me with\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; surrealistics in action\n\n  \n\nits wonderful getting to know a strangers neuroses. or the internal struggles of two teenagers dining at a restaurant\n\n  \n\nnothing makes me happier than \u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;the surreal \u0026 minute \u0026 mundanity \u0026 this world \u0026\u0026nbsp;\n\n  \n\npreferably\n\n  \n\nrecording it\n\n  \n\nit reminds me how little i know of others' lives. and that, just for a moment, i was blessed with knowing them. even if they didnt know it.\n\n  \n\nim tuning into experiential static\n\n  \n\ndoes that make sense? i feel like im \u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;making sense.\n\n  \n  \n  \n\n"}