Automatic Writing #3
Why then six sick sink hole sized faces in the night do we the undersigned under sighs of silent night tears- tear apart this wretched soulless soul until tills ring… Read More »Automatic Writing #3
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Automatic Writing #3
Hide in the bark the forgotten winder spun the free song to the tired goats on the porridge farm. Hark so low the bottom of the fish was not where… Read More »Automatic Writing #3