he's coming
in twenty five minutes
death-loverchurner of innards
he's coming
in bells and whistleswhite hands
my tattooed fate
and i'll swoon over him
offer some leftovers
but it will be too late
Poetry, prose, and perfectly strange artifacts from the past five years of my life.
"We crossed paths for a reason... and it only strengthened my faith
in just that -- reason."
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