Experimental, impressionistic sub-paragraph tumblin' (think obstsalat)


ith your fist that’s bleeding from times of war
All you aim for is an untied breath
And for the case you should fail you brought your knife along
I will be so sad to hear that you’re dead
— You Will Get Well Soon, I Sold My Hands For Food So Please Feed Me

part of blue gerbera 1mb

Over the last few years, I went from counting lines of code to counting downloads to counting users. — Gregory Brown

We never sleep at night – we tremble
We never turn out the light at all
But one day we’ll be free
One fine day we’re free
— You Will Get Well Soon, We Are Cannibal Corpse