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, November 8, 2017
Say what you will about Hillz, either way
One thing, we'd all be fucking a bit more.
And, every day my body shrinks away a little more. With that red-faced make.
And, every day, your eyes on me, I bake, I plan a wall between.
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