when i'm done with it, i toss it across the room. as if books just grow on trees. it's not as bad as i thought it was. it's as if someone captured things about a millisecond before everything became brutal and too much fucking effort. there's still some heart. it's still not good though. my naked back. your hands. call me.
i'm so very dull, i wish someone would stab me in the face, just so something would happen.
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