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, August 25, 2017
stop torturing yourself, you're torturing me
lucy took to her bed.
returns were trickling in.
who's been spending it?
remained up until midnight.
some would say collision.
operated in tight. small-town.
an unflattering piece of information,
any means necessary, in closeness.
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