so

he's Black and disabled

he uses a wheelchair (we first bonded over our shared shitty spine disease)

help me help the homie

he said a new phone is a hundred something (lets call it $200)

also he needs a fucking umbrella

put a 🙂 in the note if you wanna help me help him

$natoudelatour

Curious if a song ever materialized.

It’s a little unnerving how beautiful you are. Wars were fought over less. But your songs would’ve ended them—and none of them had your wit, your brushstrokes. Or your cool shirts.

There must be a story attached to this comment. Can we share a story time?

Thank you. I love your poetry, so that means a lot

Accurate. Not always, but the mileage varies.

Also, I don’t need credit—just keep making beautiful, thought-provoking music. I hope I get to see you live someday.

That would be a beautiful bit of cross-pollination. You’re already such a steady influence on my work—always on rotation when I’m deep in my screenplay. Truly, it’d be an honor.

In that case, it was: glitch-glam postcards from Anaïs Nin in lace, leather, and cowboy boots? yes, please. this feels like dream-haze erotica built from the brick of a sensual memory archive.

To be fair, it was your of. I write the odd screenplay with drag clowns too, but this is my mostly anonymous kink poetry shit-posting profile.

It's actually part of a longer poem.

Also, I messaged you this somewhere else, "glitch-glam postcards from Anaïs Nin in lace, leather, and cowboy boots? yes, please." That's what made me think to write this, honestly.

I did. Yes, been a fan for a bit.

one can do worse than floki.