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
Tuesday, September 5, 2017
snitches get stitches
the more time we pass, with offices secured, we feel no choice, sorry for the insides of jokes, jokes too serious to laugh. but after I survive this hurricane, welcome we to Capital, DC's premiere prostitute, "you can do anything," cut we limbs, and take down the final boss. venmo donations for lipo and boob jobs (we want 4). *nothings gonna hurt you baby*
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