Terminal mk. 93
I don’t want love I deceive love,the very core of it, the partlike a half crushed grapeon a gray sidewalk. I wish I didn’t talk and sat here silentlyon the torn up couchthe dogs rip outthe guts of almosthopefully. The daylight is enflamedand so is every nightthe stars look likethey’ve sipped on too much mercury. […]
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