the coast seems clear, broad. the current moves at an expanding rate and the wind mixed with salt won't sting when you push your eyelids together. the corrosion underneath my steady path shows the firm truth of change. before great art, what was there to mimick...charliatan or not, we all mock and the taste of the current fills my mouth with every
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stop writing on my lj please okay its not cute okay thanks adios
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xoxoxxoxoxfuxooxoxoxox
opie
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