chunks of flommus
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Andru Defeye
a poem called thank you.
Thank you To the air in my lungs for allowing me to shout Thank you To the creator for forgiveness that I didn’t
sacramento: guerrilla arts, every monday night
the magic show What we do here Is magic. You say you don’t believe in magic. I say you’re talking when you should be listening. This
flashbacks
He is holding her. They look very much in love. Her knees buckle. It’s 9:53am. From two blocks away her body goes lifeless. I
on gardening and existential crises
Some of us are good at planting Picking weeds Turning soil helping seeds find their roots. Others of us are good at uprooting and cleaning