at merk’s
mang popoy is leaving with his brass, what jazz would it be without him?
but it’s the music mang popoy.
in this desolate bar, wednesday night - raining pit dark night.
wherever is your interlude playing?
brainhellhole overspill
imagine a bird moving every grain of sand from this island to the other. grain by grain, and back again. that long will your soul suffer from eternal damnation. - (bastardized from rudolfo anaya’s bless me ultima)
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