moobout,

SOMEONE'S DEAD!
call me on it.

tonight had a sort of specific purpose which got shifted in the interest of media and awkward circumstance.

that place never was real
that face never was real.

i'm looking back "loading..." is what i'm getting but even without pure memory, textwords, i know what i was feeling in brackettime. i still love you.

relative.

i feel heavy like i need to carry myself.

the library; the garden.