Bent and Beat
(a public journal)
i lay in the darkness of nothing to say
listening to the tick of running out
touched only by the dying scent of your perfume
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Smoke Signals (a bend blog)
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Untitled
she never came
Warm Springs Highway
carb day from a distance, physical and temporal
Subtle little fractal crackfingers, seemingly rand...
My Love and i at Horse Butte (rather than sleeping)
I woke up on the wrong side of today, yesterday. W...
We are stuck upon the wet pane under a yellow umbr...
Can't Get Offworld (Part 3)
There is a merchant downtown who has, after carefu...
Sometimes, when you are the only person in the hou...
We found a scrawny black dog, or he found us, came...
I dream of India so much lately, i have begun to f...
Oh my! (Inset)
Even the moon falls, she said and looked away. He ...
Our Home
i lay in the darkness of nothing to saylistening t...
Have You Seen Me?
Even though his mother was an actual whore, the bo...
She handed me brushes and paletteand said"Paint me...
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April
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March
(3)
Bent Paradox
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