William (& his tells)

for my final project three thousand ones turned a ruffled feather every time the spin cycle hit laundering suits (first hearts, then spades, diamonds & clubs) suicide kings turn over time after time each hand holding a different message both sides playing the same

letters we never wrote – vol. 1

my dearest sam, i think you mean de_coded some unscrambling of technological hieroglyphics keeping digital footprints free of any pesky paper cuts lead not your head to worry of the paths yon youth will take as the wheel falls home again turning over and over thirty seven paces walk it out these are our lives... Continue Reading →

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