untitled #61 (by winter matthew)

the boat sails backwards. the wind is sunburnt-cinnamon. as my silent mind considers for an eternity/moment your delicious blushing smile...

A Slight Miscalculation Can Mean the End

By E.J. Hammon The tiny spaceship sputtered to a slow crawl as it hovered close to the outer ring of the planet some races called Saturn....

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