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, November 7, 2017
Gendering practice. Postmodern critique. Whoa, luck. Let me breathe.
the flowers never grow •°pre-apocalypse°• i'll pick forever. official guess it's near °•this time•° and, you're not making it easy.
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