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
Monday, June 2, 2014
When It Was New
Don't even know how.
Could have heard this
song. Do find the start
again. Magic Stranger, please.
Hear in, next morning.
Seems to be that empty. Like
bar. Catch self this time
Think you can read my mind.
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