who'd you go to my life before facing the window shards with which you operated upon yourselves like pinnochio's first religious experience discovered motherfucking tangling shadows in icicles and skeletons dissolving images of a trumped-up dance of velvet hands falls on your face masturbating to a dirty letter i'd promised not to send i'd promised to go somewhere else so long as you'd remain with me in the back seat of your eyelids are foreign strange to me i have felt friendship like you sold your swell story to your romanian cyberstalker pissing yourself laughing
on Collodi's different way
:-)
Simon
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