a chasm yet full: break do walls of white noise and fingernails on brick
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Where I once stood, yes, I saw that lone structure, yes, the blackness of true.
write when there’s nothing; so, when life turns back around, you will not miss it.
The show's a big top, ball-balancing seal, fed with a greenback salmon.
So he's a MAN, they say. Only 18, but in his head, he runs the gamut. He's a man and he can't help show it and not: he fucks to feel, but still, he feels nothing; and blowjobs aren't exciting. He's emotionally motionless (emotions are inward movements); again he drags himself … Continue reading What The Television Don’t Tell Ya About Men
Hope was dormant: forced laughter erupted from volcanic lungs, the larynx undoubtedly perplexed by the infantry of air assaulting the moribund vocal chords. Ashen gray breaths tightly dissipate, once held by a brotherly strength formerly unbeknownst, leaves the lungs, out the chest, sooner than condensed. In that charcoal mist, nothing is discerned, … Continue reading And I, Too, Enjoy Island Volcanoes