A Netflix story.

Photo by Burak K on Pexels.com

In this culture diet, at night, I consume art with bulimia.

I am searching for truth in media, like a junkie searches food in a garbage bin.

My creative juices; sold in an unholy agreement to a thirsty capitalist.

The door is open; but I haven’t learned to walk completely on my own.

My knees bruised, I put them on ice every night and I try again tomorrow.

Mid thirties, eating 0% fat yogurt, on my sofa I consume art.

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