I ran 4 nights in a row so I can be creative for half an hour

Him: "Like I'm freer, like I am shedding so much. All that wasn't important. Like it's good. I'm free. What's that called?"
Me: "Pregnancy"

The implicit exercise of always-searching-for-the-punchline. Fuck I love punchlines. But it made me think of us. All of us, modern, cool people with smartphones and dumblives.

America

A better time. of course.

We all look to the same skies though.

Artificially lit, adorned, clothed in domes, asleep, waking up. Like I never wanna stop living cuz if I live out one snapshot. I've lived them all.

*

You are always ticking inside of me and I dream of you more often than I don't.

My body is a dead language and you pronounce each word perfectly.

sierra demulder, from unrequited love poem

which reminded me of ....

A. Dworkin's piece on pornographers using women's bodies to speak their twisted, criminal language. 

Which made me think of..

Kafka's In the Penal Colony:

"Our sentence does not sound severe. Whatever commandment the prisoner has disobeyed is written upon his body by the Harrow. This prisoner, for instance" -- the officer indicated the man -- "will have written on his body: Honor Thy Superiors! "

which kinda brings me to my main argument.

Now. About punchlines.

even when they're sad, they're mostly funny.