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
Tuesday, April 19, 2016
leaves, looks like a stage
remember that time we said we liked the spotlight
under fluorescent, and they made a spectacle of we,
as if shame were even really a thing. Or pride. A term.
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