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
Thursday, February 16, 2017
thanks for your patience, love-stuff:
I am lost in your sparkling rights.
Your most hot, wet body politics.
I will try to teach you how to grow your
hair into territory they cannot control.
Touch is only to read your palm
in some calming social lube.
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