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
Sunday, May 14, 2017
little seed should sleep with me
Just saying
Under sheets like ours,
circles and triangles, and nothing is ever dead.
circles and triangles and things I never said.
Arms like sheets under you.
This is actually so bad, that last line, wtf
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