it smells like gunshot outside, the air is sulfuric, like the acid in my brain. it makes perfect sense, this craziness. you want to help me while im destroying my lungs with each mentholated breath and not caring not caring not caring (this dragging pain) like machete marks limping down my spine. and its this honesty which frees me, this craziness which makes perfect sense, this sulfuric breath, these acid bones decaying inside a flesh tempted and torn beside angel's wings and not feeling not feeling not feeling (capture me in spite of this mess)Birth sign: Taurus
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