a project of skill-less and dead-author labor turned dead-text turned dead-reader, love
affair with space, some cloud to influx information without regard for human eyes. &poetry
Friday, March 27, 2015
Netherday, time stamp, cookies, right?
When it was my birthday, I ate the world. When it was my birthday, I laughed at your expense. And, I almost died four times that month, feeling the real threat. So that when it was my birthday.
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