all of a sudden, it is too much muchness. my teenage selfwould have eaten this up: he's drunk, or he's telling her - you'll makeme start drinking again. dream blip, girl with M names thelast Paris poem, the first time we go to Paris is October and we will(respectfully) fuck. we will watch the swans… Continue reading poem: hauntology
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i could be bound in a nutshell and count it as infinite space if not for these bad dreams
the last pavilion 