watch out for bad luck he never leaves

[thepenguinmafia]

An hour or so before the mountains break the sun's rays and the hills become coves for missing-person sites and a weary sense of danger to all its scarce inhabitants. When night falls it seemed to bring an imbalance to both humans and creatures, a sort of fearful and anticipating wait. The kind of wait where you scratch your living corpse with your

Comments

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bad luck certainly is loyal, i liked this a lot.. imma send you that poem tonight or tomorrow foreals!~!