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
Friday, June 23, 2017
{the self-made only exists in vacuum} nothing's gonna hurt you baby {where no breath can escape} everything is gonna be just fine {believing some, now, fact}
whisper something in your ear, brainwashed you into believing
it was said, beautiful of repellent, i didn't have anything to say
but i said it anyway, enough times out loud
made you smile and look away
it was going to be sad either way
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