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
Wednesday, July 26, 2017
()your hair smells good. {}i make my own shampoo
and sometimes a screen is a memory too
we broke into that old pool at the rec center
art offers a means for such suggestions
and we got loaded and fucked around
some technique, a text about you, dreading forward
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