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Nobody knows what love is anymore. Nobody knows what happened to God After midnight, the lesbians and fairies Sweep through the streets of the old tenderloin, Like spirochetes in a softening brain. The hustlers have all been run out of town. I look back on the times spent Talking with you about the idiocies Of […]
the known appearing fully itself, and more itself than one knew
Rostește-mi numele cînd scuipatul cade
I’m Still Here is the story of those who remain after the light goes out.
November 26, 2014 by ocdlit
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