Friday, June 24, 2011
au nom de tous qui nous sépare
tyrannie puerile d'un coeur inentamé. flesh lender. fortune ridden down to the quick, teeth on the soft underbelly of fingernails. fingers, flexing and clenching, frustrated epileptics in the air they spin around themselves. seize, breathe, seize. i'm going to miss you when you go
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