"coexisting" poems
Are you a friend?
A wolf
Or
A ****** sucker?
Your aim my money,
Your happiness,
When you get me well off
You kiss me tight
When everything is right
You say honey
When in my wallet is money
You say hi
When you think I'm high
Just get to know
That my heart is No
More a joke!
My mind You choke
You always leave it bleeding
I now go weeding,
All the suckers
All the parasites
All the untrue friends
The cheats
And
The liars
Are up rooted
I am now new
I am genuine
Faithful to myself
I
Am
In need
Of a true
Self coexisting
And a mutual benefiting friendship!
Defined by true love,
Sacrifice
Devotion
Love unconditional
And
Development!
Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 12:04 AM UTC
Meditating in the carnage,
my core's cyanide became
warm milk before bed. My carcass
coexisted in inconsistent comfort, that
safety untouched like internal feelings.
Unstable caramelized eyes watered down to a
wary hazelnut from lack of love, the way the
phone screen glows white to gray at 4 AM.
Aching in agony; I haven't found a person
to care for the poison within me-
Mar 2, 2018
Mar 2, 2018 at 9:50 PM UTC
We all make mistakes,
That just makes us more connected,
We are all just alike,
We have all be in some form neglected,
Just flaws coexisting,
Trying to find our way,
Trying to find love,
And we will get there someday.
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 12:20 AM UTC
My dreams
do not come attached to
the ideals of my people
or the sacrifices of another country.
Instead I am poor
and mine are clinging to life
the very idea of existence.
Mundane flashes--
not adventurous endeavors
nor flights around the world
this is what richly folks do.
Simply a mingler
someone whose life
flourishes around the bends
of florescent street lights
and panhandling
nearby a farmers market
just after sunrise.
This remnant is few
as these are neighbors
local countrymen
who stoically face
the world's deviation
and deprivation
from coexisting
by the bonds of
agriculture and personality
even as a beggar
it is but a joyous memento
to a world that
no longer thrives.
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 3:51 AM UTC
Antimatter mirroring our existance on the pathway of a reverse world
Imagine it, time stands still, halts without a will to continue its flow if it were to possess one to begin with, and everything is but fragile,
Illusionary moon, shine on in this distorted realm in which not even gravity is reliable or even trustworthy at this point, up is down here,
An imperishable night caught under a spell of eternity, uninterrupted
Everlasting, permanently shining, the fake moons appearance is clear,
Unremitting, sweetly told as a if it was a lie, the rumours of this world spread more likely like a disease through the ancient, young earth,
A line parallel drawn to ours, a dimension coexisting without sense,
It appears to be fragile, like a newborn child, the smallest disturbance would mostlikely ruin it's balance, bring tremor upon it wretchedly,
But where that life sparkles as then fades, two dimensions surely would overlap, of course, maybe it will be the world you inhabit, no?
In the realm of the dead, a loitering, lingering darkness thins the borders of reality and illusion, causing them to exist as one, now with the same heart and soul, a fantasy heaven which became reality,
After all, that place is only temporary,one surely could even call it a;
Short living eternity,
~ Umi
Mar 26, 2018
Mar 26, 2018 at 7:57 PM UTC
"You are twisted
and your tongue permanently tastes of cherries." -
you say,
but I just tie cherry knots
with my fruit-infused tongue,
and laugh at your complaints.
Red neon numbers remind me
of your lips on mine.
Gripping at the empty side of the bed,
wishing I were somehow still in your head.
You and I were similiar and collided
in coexisting lives.
I can see a jaw drop
the hand moving south
as if to slip into the knife drawer
of a total solar eclipse.
Six shots deep so I could forget your name,
and all of the reason I love you.
Instead I sat there
with him,
(not you)
crying over cherry stems.
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 2:47 PM UTC
she's yelling at her reflection
as tears run down her pretty face
"you're happy, you're ******* happy"
she screams at the mirror
"you're ******* HAPPY
you have parents
and a home
a boyfriend
and a best friend
so what if daddy's packing his bags
and he's forgotten all the promises he made
and mommy's stopped talking
isolating herself from everyone
even her little girl
and that life under your roof is a living hell
because everyones coexisting
but no one speaks to each other besides over text
so what if your boyfriend lives miles away
you don't get to hug him everyday
it kills you knowing you can't hold him close
and that your best friend hasnt eaten in weeks
her hair's begun to fall out and and she's lost her personality
you have money and shelter and resources
you rich *****
BE HAPPY"
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 7:34 PM UTC
At the basic stage of learning a language comes pairs of most commonly used antonyms,
words meaning opposites of each other like the earth and the sky,
far away and close by,
love and hate,
metaphorically speaking even you and me.
Except, sky begins right where earth stops,
so if you really think about it only the soles of our feet are truly grounded,
while our heads have always been in the clouds.
Distance is subjective, so depending on how fast a ride is or the resolution of a lens,
sunsets and full moons are that much closer than a lover's touch.
Love and hate are not two sides of the same coin,
or the extreme ends of the same spectrum,
but rather the same side of the same coin,
exuded by the same people at the same people for the same reasons,
interdependent,
coexisting,
one defining the other.
Well, I suppose that leaves you and me.
As in it literally leaves you and me out,
metaphorically speaking,
figuratively speaking,
theoretically speaking,
you and I aren't antonyms after all because,
as it appears we do not define each other or anything in between.
Like the ocean and a bumblebee.
Here I am calm and blissful with sunlight bouncing off of every wave,
dramatic and roaring, heightened with emotions soaring,
bearing an infinity of life, continuously giving, nurturing and upholding,
but all you want is honey;
metaphorically speaking.
Aug 17, 2016
Aug 17, 2016 at 4:39 PM UTC
the latest theories on the Neanderthal
is they died out due to homosexuality
& the earliest evidence of actual civil
order depicts women as priestesses &
queens & men, even kings as animals;
monsters & giants coexisting w/ teenagers
& old people in complex structures ruled
over by older priests, poets & a professional
warrior class; the king could be murdered
w/ impunity & the queen taken as consort
by the next king or murdered if she proves
too ambitious; & throughout all this, scribes
record the passage of time, the declaring of
laws, engagements in wars, rituals, persona,
comic tales & history; notable women have
a roster of their own, some written by ******
scribes party to their secret names & habits;
all known things; bathhouse elect, her scribe
observing her in the dressing mirror invents
the adventures of her reflection; a princess
never to grow old yet her father-husband is a
bearded elder; her older brother a warrior-prince
& future king; her younger brother/son is the
poet who must reveal what he knows, if only
b/c he'll burst if he has to **** his baby sister
in ritual Hieros gamos w/out telling everyone
exactly how he feels about it; but daring to speak
means being ****** burned at the stake, beheaded
& drawn & quartered, so he writes in secret
[chisels actually, so it's resemblance is mostly
related to relief sculpture
& engraving, but writing], passing
the linear tablets to the young priestess who buries
them beneath the temple floor for some future age
of mankind to discover anew & perhaps heed the
warnings of the coming chaos (the poet, a prophet
before there was such a thing); the ****** priestess
worships him w/ unrequited longing; her heart in
chaos, sharing the poet's vision; nature calls her
to her big brother like a woman loves a man & on
that day when they are to publicly mate the young
siblings are gone & are presumed eaten by the
unseen unseen like so many others before them
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 5:30 PM UTC
Sailing soft, frozen in time--
Sat on your chair where I could've sworn
I saw a past life regression flash along
Your face. Stuck there now,
I'm alone now and forever forth.
For years I stored half my cash into a box
without second thought
just to end up spending it all in six months.
that last crash erased all the academic pablum
that proved less required reading
more distraction.
Just a border now,
head against an extending wall,
Witless and stonecold sober;
At ease with every unanswered craving
And coexisting with a life where nothing goes
according to plan.
Oct 18, 2020
Oct 18, 2020 at 1:11 PM UTC
I wish I could have stayed in bed all day today,
Writing poems about entertwining fingers and tangled legs;
About lips that never moisten themselves; About tickles that, abruptly, turn into
caresses and lingering touches.
I would have written about cuddles and tight ******** embraces that didnt require that "thing" they like to do most;
About kisses that make you yearn for nothing less than a lifetime supply of Them.
I, simply, wish I'd have just stayed in my room
In my bed and
Penned all morning about the complex simplicities of coexisting with Desire.
I'd have written about how Competition was welcomed with unfurled arms, kissed and un-coated at the door.
I'd have written about how it was welcomed as a third party to the bed;
how we would vye for its approval and battle for 1st place as Best Giver of Love.
..But, instead, I'll just write a poem about the poem id have written had I just stayed in bed today.
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 10:52 AM UTC
~dedicated to the old poets here~
the addictive pairing of certain words, a line,
a lyric, slap-snapping you to full attention,
unfailing decades of instant recognition,
an adrenaline + caffeine shot that powers
a chance, a tensile injection that causes
the lips to commence a new choreography,
the fingers to tap, a jumbled, hurried, embattled
disorderly mess that regenerates, reformulates,
concords into agreement, a harmonic consistency
a geometry of many differing angles that equate
a hard physical, a soft mentality in a singled work,
coexisting in a sacred state of singed confluence,
though imperfect, satisfies mathematical boundaries
of a random outpouring, crowning the stripe inspiring
the spark that finally satisfyingly silences an ignited
filament a-glowing for years, that holy happens
to cross your antennae, fulfilling the need to honor,
the sacred geometry of chance, the honor to need,
the joy of saying, at last, this unwritten debt, paid!
————————————————————————-
(1) a favorite of many years, a lyric from “The Shape of My Heart” by Sting
(2) Dec 3 2020 2:53pm NYC
Dec 3, 2020
Dec 3, 2020 at 2:59 PM UTC
Insomnia,
Insomnia,
I wish that you would die.
Why is it that you ****** me?
You laugh as you make me cry.
Feelings that help conspire,
My heart to skip a beat.
The pressure of my blood rises higher,
To cure my sadness I continue to eat.
A monster grows inside of me,
His name I do not know.
All of this peculiar controversy,
Conspiracies begin to grow.
Not knowing who or what I am,
I start to lose my head.
While my head forms
it's acidic jam,
It soaks up into my bed.
Deadly forces fight inside,
My brain stops it's function.
Unconventional disfunctions collide,
Like a sentence without conjunction.
Distancing myself from society,
I'll sleep forever lonely.
Friends are like your enemies,
So late to realize they're phony.
Love has been lost,
Some time ago.
I wish I had a companion.
Misery,
Inside of me.
A woman's touch will make,
This loneliness inside of me go.
Questioning the nature of humanity,
I feel I'm betraying the lord.
Constant coexisting insanity,
Starts when one becomes bored.
Boarding up these windows,
The storm rolls in above.
As peers become your hated foes,
Hate transformed from love.
Waking up this very day,
I notice a familiar sensation,
Every dawn is like today,
With no spontaneous creation.
Night comes about,
I fail to sleep,
Instead I start to shout.
Counting sheep,
Is useless,
As my heart fails to grout.
Insomnia,
Insomnia,
Why won't you let me be?
Too many things exhaust my mind.
I'd like to go to sleep.
Sep 1, 2016
Sep 1, 2016 at 3:06 PM UTC
A dream once brought to me
Beautiful and sweet
Tender touches of love
Coexisting, together two bodies high above
Happiness and beauty wrapped around
We were tangle in it entirely bound
A dream once brought to me
Instead turned dark, how can this be?
A nightmare suddenly broke a tremendous light
A face above me now evil, causing much fright
Holding down my fight
Screams muffled by your hand so tight
Pressed against me without tender touches of light
Happiness and beauty no longer in sight
Instead held captive by chains of despair
I stare over my own body tortured, oh what fright
As demons grew around me laughing at my fear
Hard and unsettling with an ice cold heart
You pressed your hot skin to mine
It burned and welted, forever scarred
The nightmares end is lost without time
Shadows cast, screams stopped
Outside myself, scream inside, fight within
Nothing more to do, I laid still and watched
Done and gone, I think not
Replay upon replay, night after night
I dream of only what nightmares taught
And watch myself fight
Never winning over such despair
So sleep is my new found fear
Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 1:57 PM UTC
Some say there is nothing more beautiful than the sunrise, and how the sun's lips lightly spin over the face of the earth and bathe it in soft colors, a gentle reminder that the darkness is over.
Some say there is nothing more beautiful than the ocean, because no matter how far they're swept away, the waves always find their way back home to shore, healing it over and over again.
Some say there is nothing more beautiful than galaxies, and how no star tries to outshine the other, every form simply coexisting in a dance of unnamed colors; in space even death is a sight to behold, a firework display of moondust and leftover breath from the mouth of God.
Yet I have to disagree, for I have never before seen anything as beautiful as love in its purest form--- conquering death, every sliver of fear, every earthshaking storm.
For loving you is sunrise, we have seen each other's midnight yet still we choose to forgive, knowing that when light breaks it covers even the places we thought were beyond love's relentless reach, and
Loving you is oceans of pushing and pulling, hurting and healing, but we have promised to be there through high tides and low tides, because I know your moon will always draw you home to me, and lastly,
Loving you is galaxies. I have never before felt anything so alive, so vast that even after claiming we know all the coordinates and all the corners of our maps, we still are only brushing the surface of our solar systems, and there are still so many colors, so many flames, so many meteorites we still haven't named, but that's okay because loving you
is only the beginning. Thank you for choosing my hand for yours to hold on this crazy, everlasting journey and maybe one day we'll find the right words to compare what loving you is like, even if we both know there aren't any. Oh, there aren't any.
Jun 22, 2015
Jun 22, 2015 at 11:40 AM UTC
Eyes having opened,
They were met by an infinite blue.
Deeply rich and sapphire-esque in tone,
The sea rushed into the mouth that was held agape
By both marvel and fear.
At first instinct was the will to resist,
But then came the strange comfort of allowing the passionate Blood that once boiled
Chill itself to a painfully distant frost.
It was ecstasy and torture coexisting within
A circular harmony of sensation.
This order of solace was short lived.
With a shimmer,
The once reserved and vibrant sea of blue transformed
Into an abyss of clarity.
The briny and familiar taste shifted in nature to something other. Something potent, something repulsive, something sinister.
At once,
The calm oasis turned into a scathing hell.
His inferno incarnate.
A body that at past times swam with jubilance
Now sank to the fiery depths,
Having already lost both the spirit and the ability to fight.
Crisped,
The corpse felt an enormous pain.
But the mind felt none for there was none to speak of.
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 8:25 AM UTC
Our father liked to play a game.
He would count each hawk
preying, circling above veiny tree lines
graying like shadows of industry.
There’s a redtail, he would say, look
at its proud chest and talons of mastery. Our
eyes searched for the creature, noses
pressed to cool glass and 65MPH speed.
Sometimes we’d catch the bird with two eyes, one eye
or none. Meanwhile, our father never took his eyes
off the road, fixed on painted yellow lines stretching
to heartlands down New York’s I-90 West.
With age my eyes became engaged, detecting
the slightest movement peripherally. Rods
in retinas distinguished plump plumes from leaflet
tufts, razor beaks from thorny stags, white breast from
billowing plastic bags. My sideways scan
of leafy fringe is an artifact of habit
when traveling down state roads of this infra-structured
nation. I search for evidence of its natural relation,
beyond all that is manufactured by the jelly-
spine of convenience, beyond wheels spinning
at deafening speed, beyond the grubby hands of greed.
Still, our connection to place is still here and Earthly,
coexisting in delicacy, like the hawk’s nested-blend
of twig and trash. I trust there is a chance for us yet,
despite cloudy puddles of progress, despite integrity
lost in capital gain, despite a forgotten native name.
Feb 23, 2013
Feb 23, 2013 at 4:44 PM UTC
Polyrhythms & sunny synths
rippling across the surface
of a blue lagoon as we are guided
to ascend by an enlightened
soul with the force of a typhoon.
Tinkling melodies & shining stars
gracing through the galaxies
within our hearts, pacing
in circles as it all continues
to lovingly fall apart.
Good vibes & joyous moments
take us all on a mystical journey
through the folds of time
as we flow through the waters
of golden beaches so divine.
What wonderful luck to be alive,
coexisting with the beauty
of a land touched by starlight.
An uplifting sea of memories
surfaces as nostalgia subtly sways
through the summer leaves,
floating upon a gentle breeze
giving way to an easy night.
Nov 9, 2021
Nov 9, 2021 at 5:51 AM UTC
my hidden shames
are an excellent source of moral fibre,
nurturing, but not nutritious.
we coexist in a quiet
mutual acknowledgment,
coexisting but un-categorizable,
nonetheless,
among my oldest cohorts,
their singular coordinated characteristic,
they are mine alone,
not meant to be shared.
But they will someday
make an excellent poem.
Mon jan 2 2023
6:47am
@here
———————————————————-
the askew
are my oldest companion,
dating back to my naissance,
faithful, eternal, but single-minded,
with a rueful sense of humor,
of course,
refer to my relatively plentiful hairs
inherited from my mother’ genetics.
a morning chore,
to return their antics
to an adult,
dignified pose,
plenty sufficient to be be brushed,
straight back,
the preferred orderly compose,
of older men
who cannot waste time
with foolishness,
the excessive vanities of
curls, parts and pompadours,
and yet,
every day they wake me with
ridicule, mockery, by presenting
themselves.to me,
as if electrocuted,
each
hair raising itself
pointing to the heaven,
whence
their true Creator resides.
no amount of product
persuasive,
they do what they must do,
akimbo, askew,
with inordinate amount of
malice aforethought and
a venomous sense of
hairy (and now hoary)
absurdity .
a splash of water,
a handful of rigorous brush strokes,
returns order
and the pretense of a serious mien,
an adult demeanor.
But their purpose accomplished,
they have reminded me of the
absurdity of human vanity,
to humble myself
before forces
more powerful
than human self-aggrandizement
by accentuating
our human foibles.
7:13am
same time & place
——————————————-
morning prayers are
always
a trilogy
the rounded evenness of three,
provides the necessary gravitas
of sufficiency,
three being
not too short,
not too long,
not too quick,
just three right,
to impart
the seriousness
of gratitude
for having gained
another day upon earth,
with it,
many multitudes of
chances to share
thankfulness,
kindness,
yes,
& love too,
and to write,
one more poem
encapsulating
all of the above.
7:35am
same day
same place,
same cup of coffee
Jan 3, 2023
Jan 3, 2023 at 9:17 AM UTC
For it was but a figurine of blue nothing majestic
in its stance until a fateful day upon its happening
of beleaguered figure with eyes that shone beyond
this vacant etching. Without a yearning it picked at
this still supple flesh and devoured the beauty within.
Coexisting motions interlaced from a form of nothingness
to an existence of beauty that birthed in form and a weave
of colour liberated from its anatomy. Once it has given into
repulsive convulsions of what had perspired it saw with
what new eyes. But where one feather lingered it needed more.
A craving of beauty even though needed through means
that weren't intentional. But elegance is an obscurity of
vain ambitions that once reflected upon is need to be kept
within the grasp of moments now corroding at these delicate
frames whisper in sight and where one fluttered now, more do.
So many feathers adorned its foliage, and seen was the beauty
that extended past its virtues that were as corrupted as its on
moral compass that was dipped in blood, you should fear a
Peacock of no foliage for it needs to be hole to see its feathers
grace the air and only the inevitable craving will fulfil this plumage.
For it see with many eyes that aren't its own but fulfil it plumage.
*"So many see nothing, but a world where beauty is constructed
from the eyes of others and even they do not truly see,*
Nov 25, 2016
Nov 25, 2016 at 5:49 PM UTC
Day and night
Dark and light
Sunset and twilight
are
on
the
same
planet
parallel
coexisting
but
miles apart
seperated
by
moments
compliment
each other
and
so
we
are
Jun 15, 2017
Jun 15, 2017 at 5:49 AM UTC
to the little girl
who sits by the tv screen,
watching encantadia—
lireo is where you belong,
your palms big enough
to hold the kingdoms of sapiro,
lireo, hathoria, and etheria in
your hands, keeping
the brilyantes of air, water, earth
and fire in the four chambers of
your heart to keep peace
in our world.
you are an amihan,
open to the truth of
an entirely different continent
coexisting with the mortal world
that you know,
never letting death keep you
from closing in on yourself
like an abandoned cathedral;
you are soft and gentle in
all the ways she tries to lead,
dangerous in the way
cassopeia's prophecy was fulfilled,
bringing the ruin of hathoria.
do not be afraid when
pirena comes, rage and
hade! hade! hade! against the beating
of the earth against your feet,
stealing the holy fire in your heart.
it will keep burning, arrows aimed
and the war won and you will
get it back.
you will get it back.
ilantre ivi e corre?
ilantre ivi hasne masne?
the people wonder.
you are a descendant of the
diwatas powerful and
almighty in the elements
of the world you hold close;
under your reign,
corre will return,
masne will start its journey.
kingdoms will be brought
to their knees.
you will never forget
the land where you came from
mingling with the magic
in your veins
you are one of many
a lot of things you can never compromise.
ivi esna adelan e...
Oct 13, 2016
Oct 13, 2016 at 2:15 AM UTC
Half of the morning sky holds the night,
as the moon in the semi-darkness still gives its light.
But on the other side of the heavens,
dawn is awakening.
With a glorious pink and orange sunrise.
What a delight to my eyes!
Night and day in the same sky.
Coexisting.
For all to see.
Darkness and light are sharing the canopy.
Just as trials of life can be bittersweet.
The darkness of grief.
And the light of joy and peace incomprehensible.
Existing at the same time.
Colliding each day within the same heart.
The night of loss,
and the day of freedom.
Coexisting.
The darkness of loneliness and regret,
and the light of God's love
and never-ending Presence.
Bittersweet.
The bittersweetness of trials and suffering.
In this temporal life.
Indeed no one escapes them.
Bittersweet.
There is beauty.
Beauty in this.
Like the winter moon in the dark,
and the sunrise awakening the dawn.
Coexisting.
In the same sky.
At the same time.
Creating a beautiful coexistence.
(edited)
Jan 28, 2017
Jan 28, 2017 at 2:31 PM UTC
That’s just a catastrophe
When I get lost and you cannot find me
When I'm a catacomb, and you think I'm a synagogue
Love isn’t what you think
It's not you ******** up everything I do
It's not even me trying to write about your stupidity
It's not my family, hating you ever after
Do you think we can have a baby?
Or can you imagine both of us as partners in crime?
Wait, shut up, am I being selfish,
Cherishing myself to death, blasphemously
You have to know, I am a boy
I am a girl sometimes
I am transgendered, but that doesn’t mean I cannot cry.
I can hurt you and the feeling will equal to your mother’s death
Zoanthropy, I can be.
Authority, Military, Nudism, you and me.
I can make you ***** and smile
This ongoing process I get every day from coexisting with your picture
Who the hell are you, anyway?
Do I already know you, felt you, grab your genitals?
Isn't that a pity, cause I still play the sensitive type
While I'm the ***** ad the pure prostitution
Ironically
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 4:34 AM UTC
You love hearing.
You love seeing.
You love smelling.
You love feeling.
You even love the taste of life,
Bold statements arise: pentagon built pyramids; hexagram built light…
I’m speaking subtlety’s; the space between five and six,
Like that star David from CSI;
Eleven mirror, twelve depicts,
If they’re in prison, it was because of common sense,
If you’re successful, universe says you were dependent on the sixth…
We’ll acknowledge foundations as Gravity, Although they reflect;
Time as tragedy,
Too low to connect;
Space to one; a division within;
I’m thinking maybe this trinity could project a web,
Gravity is the outcome of manifestations existing;
Creativity transmuting energy that’s coexisting in a space in which polarities consisting,
Space is the frame that’s assisting;
A geometrical web full of light that infinitely splits simultaneously while it’s energy is shifting,
Time is the perception of distance between manifestations, it’s the same as predicting,
It doesn’t exist until it exists,
That’s a matter of apathetic wishing,
“He’s an oxymoron…”
We fear the unusual,
But we can’t possibly be normal,
That’s actually abnormal,
When we conform to others idealism, our realities become harmful,
Earlier I advocated that space is full,
If you’re pushing space in your own gravity, displacement will leave your mind full; time-poor,
Love yourself, because you love your five senses,
No need for senseless for it is why we sense-less before more,
That doesn’t mean closed door,
It means your time is poor;
How can you be of wealth if you’re missing idealism,
In such a situation you’re obligated to war;
Be informed, be young, belong life,
Disconform, keep ***** on your side,
Obliterate, reiterate, polarize,
You must know thyself before you know the sky.
Nov 28, 2018
Nov 28, 2018 at 7:36 PM UTC