"The new uncool. And im leaning my head against some window in sometown. It doesn’t even really matter. My head feels heavy. Tissue stuffed in my nose caked with dried blood, stuck like glue (the way I am to you). Ive got bad luck fists and every single joint in them is dyed a deep bruised violet. The blood is thick coating my throat, I heave
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If he just wrote all the time, I'd be in love.
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