I fill two envelopes with cyanide and happiness, respectively. I mail them to myself to give myself time to forget. I shove a length of lead pipe into my ribcage, and vomit poison from my heartspigot. A draining abscess that just goes on ad nauseam. Promises carved from forevers turn out to be fairweather pillow talk. I'll just lay down and die, then. That seems like the best result to this indefinite and predictable equation.
4:43 p.m. - 2017-10-09
Recent entries:
Tossi Propter - 2018-07-02
Summerscorch - 2018-07-02
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Back and Callback - 2018-06-18
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