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
sometimes in handwriting that looks like my mum's, curtains
and, when I see this, again,
I remember full paranoia of
secrets--it's been so long, but
past-drenched notes in teenhood
questioning if she had gone through
me--through and through--and
annotated those precious,
often, sad ... wrotes
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