You are reading:
MY TRASH PLaNET
© WRiTER oN THe MoON
Everything has been reduced to the blinding glare of the shopping windows and the dead light of phone screens.
You are fading and dying staring at a fucking screen.
There it goes: I used to abduct people.
WTF? Do you see a Christmas Tree like I do?
Hold on for a second! My drawing is not downloading at the desired speed.
Then I returned them on grass and clover.
They created religions.