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
Saturday, July 25, 2015
Use your weird irony. Make no sense. Fill me up, let me know that I'm out of it, speaking in codes to avoid. Privilege.
With some sefl-important overdrive.
Added Spice. Girls, girls, girls.
Dying tonight, w/e.
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