Pure? What does it mean? The tongues of hell are dull, dull as the triple tongues of dull, fat, Cerberus, who wheezes at the gate. Incapable of licking clean the aguey tendon, the sin, the sin. The tinder cries. The indelible smell of a snuffed candle. Love, love, the low smokes roll from me like Isadora's scarves, I'm in a fright one scarf
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