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 30, 2017
we love that you don't paint bodies. don't draw faces
I feel so small. everytime in my dreams,
you're haunting me. his dark materials return,
but we moved on easy. I fall without some need.
We made it rain for me. waiting on a book of dust
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