my preference now is little intimate, silly things, so a love letter ornamented with stickers and hand. stitches could work. away with roses, I say, from the lovelorn, who despaired and gave, and given up went the giver. away with rich imports, I say, open palms portent of the inverse of all. the unordered life shall be lived and spread with risk and patching more than the past simply since that is what feels funner, what feels more alive to me, with my Jaded magic-mauled heart so lately coming to life again












