A poet on s.u.d. (status updating disorder):
"I find myself in the kitchen thinking about myself in the third person. Ms B is back from Brockley. Ms B has forgotten all her words. Ms B is cleaning the filter on the clothes drier. Ms B is opening the door of the fridge. Ms B is in her jim-jams. Ms B is a product of her own words. Ms B wants to be letter of the month. Ms B is in a relationship. Ms B will be attending the Magma launch tomorrow. Ms B has accepted a friend request. Ms B thinks this weird internet-fuelled solipsism is going to make her write bad poetry sooner or later. Ms B doesn’t know what the week will bring. Ms B thinks she might not want to know. Ms B says, it was money, but it wasn’t a waste of money. Ms B the money was only resting in my account. Ms B is not only truth or consequences, but maybe and consequences. Ms B didn’t read a thing all weekend. Ms B would recognise the voice of Marie Lloyd anywhere. Ms B still needs to rest her eyes a bit, truth be told. Ms B sounds insane, writing these tiny sentences."
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