Skip to content
September 29, 2023 / barton smock

hickgnosis

Inside the father there is a frostbitten starfish. It is not out of place. Say simpler things. A car drifts through a pharmacy and doesn’t explode. Expired painkillers have in them a crying and I walk on broken grass. Say to purple that an impossible fly digs a hole for its unsalted fly friend. Kill every god whose son isn’t real.

Leave a comment