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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
Friday, April 22, 2022
to repeat the obvious, the club is our church
happy birthday
*rubs back*
we forgot a bday
*rubs back*
unlit,
for a 3rd yearwe said it's been a dry spell!
watching into a space of love
trying to feel queer again, wet
gay even.
a closet of christians, to student
my home state hates me. you. &everyone
a extended travel scene, ant on the ground
OPEN [EARLY EVENING] ant on the ground
travelogue, 3 minutes of filming
in a grayscale space, followed by tears
expletives in the dark
--must unprofessioned--
now i write poems in my head, we don't posted
now i write poems in my head
while i rub my own back
*we've been a dry spell*
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