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, December 12, 2018
august 2016, was a post with a past
I think about our gaping fucking wounds all the time. All the time, just weeping.
And, then I think about what culture, through sensitivity, is lost.
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