My friend became UK’d, then I lost him. Not literally, but to the ideal of the un-ideal. His self-worth buried underneath a stack of bills, Where he would find his daily bread and breadth as long as he lives. The Western commotion pulls many...



My friend became UK’d, then I lost him. Not literally, but to the ideal of the un-ideal. His self-worth buried underneath a stack of bills, Where he would find his daily bread and breadth as long as he lives. The Western commotion pulls many...