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, January 31, 2016
that moment in drunkard
when you are still aware of all the social happenings, and they think you don't see it, but your reactions are delayed, and your mind isn't so tightly wound to the construct, and so, in the morning, semiautomatic
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