It seems like everyone is writing poetry about the last days, about paranoia and
musings of what will come. I have run
out of milk and the grocery store is
business as usual, just a five minute
walk in melting snow.
It seems like everyone is writing poetry about the last days, about paranoia and
musings of what will come. I have run
out of milk and the grocery store is
business as usual, just a five minute
walk in melting snow.