The writer we call delapruch has been writing since infancy. His first piece was scrawled on the inside of his mother’s womb. Long since published, the rights now reside in the hands of some faceless corporation vying for the ability to extinguish the earth as a whole & move to another planet. There, the market will owe its life to it exclusively and it can begin again amidst its own year zero in its own self-policed totalitarian domain. Meanwhile, delapruch has written plays, fiction, a screenplay, etc. and some of his work can be found merely by googling him.
Why are you here?
to be amidst those with minds.
The religion you left
Was never a part of one
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