her smile's perpetual midnight digs up the carcasses of yesteryear rolling on e headlights bright bow-tie the dark's tuxedo
there are ambulances prepared in her eyelids' hangars langurous some even clad in colorful costumes supposedly glamorous ache to become if you want
i'm through with the rest of the fucking drama i've got enough of my own it's a burden the sound of each day that initial purge a nauseous universe punctuated by papercuts
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