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
winters sesh, I know who I want to take me home
language like space grows distant
<closing time>
real, real naive
<I know who I want to take me home>
culture on repeat
<closing time>
we are all guilty of that now too
*thought I had found a friend*
visibility however small
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