let them roll over me

echo i still. have these memories — (and this world) in it. i found a voice (that) i never he(ar)/d him and eye did not tell any — one. and that is how we survive. it’s how we get by when he tells me to(o) - listen t — o (o) — it loud. a language the couple of us. talk about when we swallow these secrets. that not one can please (he/a/re).

artist. style.

Throughout the years I've been ranting words in the realm of FollowMeToNYC, Artist and Style have been two significant themes. When I tell people I'm a Writer, it depends on the circumstance as to what type of writing we talk about. From what's happening on Wall Street to whatever grit spilt from my pen that day. As a Writer, I'm always keen to talk about words and expression - what I'm working on or might have read. As an Artist, I've learned,...

i still fuck with you

some(x) (timez) when we walked these creatures and things kept. moving we swam in salt— water. and (8)ate in be(tween) verses. we did (k)not talk. a— bout; the most remarkable. period of time: getting t(o)wo(o)… MUCH. there. a/our/e functions how no one will ever. as we keep singing. i love saying no— thing.
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