Friday, March 14, 2003

asume for a second that we were'nt doomed from the start.that every single word is'nt poetry,that every dead body is'nt art.you would'nt believe me if i carved it into the front of your skull with a penknife.if i sent a clawhammer through your hollow chest and made ornaments of your ribcage.Felatio either sounds like a crippling disease or a euphoric trance.there's enough duct tape and copper wire to make elegant mummified corpses of us all.

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