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
Thursday, May 31, 2018
tie yourself to me, an observer's entrance is never the same. i blame you, my darling.
oh. no one else can be necessary. be obliterated—or at least not in the way you can. don't leave me. imagine me, hurting. keep you awake. every day would
destroy their past and open me. an infinite number of
futures. wait til you say, don't you wish you never met them? They’d never emerge, but
that doesn’t really matter—they’d have no one from their past to return
to anyway. lick my legs.
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