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
Sunday, January 21, 2018
we are a transparent child in an afterschool special
and, we wish our horoscopes would tell us the blunt truth,
"they fucking pity you, so if it hurts less, make them hate you."
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