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i am tired of landscape paintings. tired of small green trees that say look at me i am art. i am a subconscious thought that you dream of as you attempt not to backwash in your dates beer. the tree tells the artist don't paint me, don't photograph my precious greenness. my branches that prick doves feet. you are stealing my soul the tree cries, but ( Read more... )

alright... i have a live journal ( Read more... )