exhibit 17. "Albion rose from where he labourd at the Mill with slaves / Giving himself to the nations he danced the dance of Eternal Death" - Blake
is this what we've come to? squabbling over the most erroneous shit?
i have so many babies
so, so, many, many, babies
as if bradstreet had anything on me
i'm popping them out
they're all about
a mess, a jumble
exhibit 18. MY HANDS ARE COVERED IN INK
new missions: make something cool every day
swimming in babies, as always.