Hollow man falls onto the cobblestone road, an echo emitted from the gaping hole in his chest. The nearby streetlamp flickers with mild indifference. The ravenous vultures cackle like a pack of noontime hens debating the fresh morning gossip. They hobble out from the shadows with awkward hops and skips, their talons clicking and clacking against
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Comments 7
are you positive they're not just seagulls. just one seagull.
we are not the hollowmen, the stuffed men. we are the atomic splice. made with whatever rusty seaside implement we find together, to unbegin the impale. perpetually. until we end. (i want a hug.)
i love you there. <3.
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don't forget that i shat on a beach. i did that with you.
<3. ilyt.
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and we fed the plants in a cemetary. yep. ilyt back. and arm. and <3.
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