Aaron Lowinger, Only Voyage
This is living. Poetry, friends, bound by keyring, freewheelin' around the kingdom, crying out loud. We lost boys ride side-stapled to the old soul's Toyota. Apostles to lots of coffee and endless talking shit. How we know, what we know, that nothing, nowhere, here nor there, ground beneath goes through the air. The Thruway it's down on paper. I promise you, spirit only.
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