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, May 23, 2017
your sister saw we, like instantly, all-in-years-agos
so long...kill me now.
every fucking day, i <wanted to>
think of you, every <fucking> day
&i played you that song whether you remember or not&
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