Kwan Q Li 李君. #HK852. 

Weedist, Capitalist Refugee,

Occupational Realist,

Regressive Romantic (R.R.)

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In Queeniland,

there is no humans in
the city, but weeds. I

keep an internal memo

of the Weedists. Perhaps

in station metric hide 

a few quasi-immigrants.

Sometimes I hear the 

greenhouse weeps.
Perhaps there is no
greens in nature?

But in happy hours,
I dreamt of free riding
the Mobike to T.A.M.,
landing on the red moon,
in my astronaut helmet.

Feel good flesh zero

at twenty-five o'clock.

Just some pillow talk,

or minor linguist Icsulcer.

et ce te ra, et ce te ra . . .

 

Yours autonomously,

Queenie 

(Prototype ______m2 )