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every boring fuck we know is clinging to nostalgia’s dope and they’ll all be dead soon i hope painted nails around my throat
lipstick is dripping blood to get off a god that never was sometimes i think that we’re to blame spiders nesting in the brain
this is what hard work brings endless opportunities to fuck it up and try again useless, stupid innocence
coughed up my human needs parked the car underneath the canopy of rotting trees ugliness amazes me
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