Here we are again knotted, drunk teenagers, you're breathing into my neck and the driver's sizzling through the night in the back seat I'm hearing something about 'geography' but
God only know what you're saying I'm viscously drunk, we threw them down, you bringing glasses and glasses to my wide jackal face and lips pushing red into your, what is your name?
Spreading tattoos over my arms, onto my winterdry hands my face is flakes and keratin, the raw and the cooked. The walls are thin in this house so I woke liquid with shame, what is your name?
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