one walks in transit
dragged over blackened basalt
the familiar taps on the shoulder 
trying to get in

you would even bet on the futility 
no one vessel can accomplish such a transformation 
but his strides encompass the plains
like violet fox glove
across carbon like rivers
beyond the burnt and rigid evening

vegabond plays tank wars with jenga blocks on a dutty town rug

pretty sure this account has everything I've ever rapped on

+playing round with tunes

03

/caff
/sssb
/grapheine
/imi
/farseers

Ōtautahi, NZ 

“I’ll give it a go”

us against whatever, forever | WEST SIDE BLOOD GANG

Followers of INTRIKA