Wicked

Je veux envelopper mes bras autour de vous, mais vous ne me le permettez pas. Quel monde quel monde quel monde Me fondre.

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“oh, They Must Be Masturbating”

My actual thought if I see someone is: -sitting alone with sunglasses on in a parked car at any park, -sitting alone in a hotel hottub, -me, -peewee herman. — i just left a sweat mark on a brick wall, a brick mark on a sweat back, and not even from anything fun.

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Nobody

Craves a fucking salad. chop me up and throw me into your mouth, crunch down on me and swallow eating me will not nourish you [but that isn’t what you’re going for] sweetheart, i will not make you beautiful but you will love me for it. — Crisp

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Void

i wonder if you do not mean to touch  and hold  like it is just something to do with your hands. grab anyone near by like, life raft; gasping for attention. the current pool r  i  s  i  n  g UP to the bottom of your chin; Lift on tiptoes STRAINING to stay above  surface. —…

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she threatened to change the climate

[one made of ice cannot touch another of fire] she traces just outside his circumference, steps b a c k when his flickers s w a y her way; melting just enough to know what warm feels like.

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cut off

Hello, con man. I see you there, comprised of all those scared mice. You are fooling no one performing in new-formed shapes. — I sure do miss that one form. he wore those old jeans, cut down, around your calves like- –you know the ones– -that make me want to touch you, in that way we…

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blanket beats fire

I was taught love was the wrong details of an oil painting.   the image: a blanket wrapped around a stranger in a desert night, desperately trying to keep warm by a fire.   I was taught the only way for anyone to love me was for them to light me ablaze stack of kindling…

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