The pen doesn’t know what you are witting. And the paper doesn’t care. A calm neutrality came over him. This was only the beginning.
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See AllYou needed at least 3 to really stay alive, he said. Broken glass was perfect in its razor blade geometry A jagged champagne flute sliced the skin at the bar The ravers ran as roaches do at the flick
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The garbage we tell ourselves. The mindreading. The self-inflicted verbal lashes to our naked backs. We are the very best at castigating ourselves. When he went so deep inside that he could not get ou
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