Monday, April 8, 2024

The course of things as they come to a close.

 I was born in a swamp of glitter. No

One knew quite what to do. Gale


I loved urgently, and I stabbed a guy

Near the corner of his eye, blinding him.


He had kids or a dog. Something.


When I think of it like weather I think

Gale—makes it sound linear and trackable.

Go ahead, wash it all off me, 

Producers.

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