m. lewis redford “poessay X: soul love”

somethings is not right
outside or in, oneself aren’t what I thought, we
just don’t co-ordinate as we should
creating havoc with syntax; but there

maybe ‘things’ don’t exist as they appear (or,
even, shouldn’t),
that everything are wrong (with
trans-dualistic semantic); where depression


m. lewis redford displays a fluid brilliance today.


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