spurts. A silent story out between my fingers down my geography scandalous staining.
blood was never more free, never so hot trail gave me chills.
It's late.
The blade is stuck in the skin. Delve
painless turning away from these shores. Tomorrow, for the first time is you who scrub the floor and wash the clothes, and I do not mind if take my body as a hindrance.
sew your consciousness with the last thread of life for me is that happiness does not find even a crack to nest after I leave.
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