Fragile, but maybe not. Shy only from the tendering. Pastel Voids like a cloud shimmering in space. Distances measured by an imagination that’s dwindling. Sometimes speaking in slurs, so system shock succeeds. Exit: room. Orchestra of the Frozen State [冰国乐队] crashes a double-sided digital-file that harkens as much as it punches a deep hole within your psyche that repeat value is a MUST for losing braincells. But losing braincells in the best way possible. Like waking up from a duster hit that circulates only a dwindling pules, eventually dropping a best so hard you inhale like you’ve just been shit from the womb. bod [包家巷] on the collapse:
More about: bod [包家巷]
