there is a worn notebook collection of songs blueprints frayed at the edges from hours, days, years spent underneath the machine tinkering with word placement the edges frayed the paper sometimes coffee stained the ink runs where liquid hit the page these songs, while just created, are ancient timeless yes, this notebook is a series…
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i’m hoping that underneath the surface filled with storms and sharp currents fierce winds that whip cheeks heavy waves that seem to never end that there is a space of calm and depth its sophistication so intense that those who witness it would be in awe make someone look twice then dive under deep with…