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Day 23

How amusing that this post should be post 23.

My Fingers Run With Blood.
an empty slow day, made more sorrowful by the empty machinations of empty dead fuck puppets, that dance upon a tinder dry stage. Pockets, full of matches.

an empty slow day made more sorrowful by the empty machinations of dead fuck puppets

an empty slow day made more sorrowful by the empty machinations of dead fuck puppets

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