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, October 17, 2017
No food, no alcohol, no place, area in back
What happens if you lose a thumb?
Miss it, only, to get into my phone.
Miss you, only
think of you.
All there.
All night.
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