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
Saturday, February 10, 2018
Maybe you are questioning your own sanity?
Where are we?
Did they get back safe? Because I rarely am.
Hold my hand. We are alone.
She took two seats and I took one. Same as it ever was.
No comments:
Post a Comment