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When half meets half, one must assume that all comes together. Pieces interlock, share giggles under lavender sheets, come to understanding after understanding.
We’re all wrong. Half meets half, rolling together. Eyes glued shut in a deep slumber, only to awaken to the putrid filth of your own naked frame.
Half becomes tender, rolled into an unwanted spheredom. Only to spend years barreling down cliffs that weren’t built for him.
agony, as we know it.
I just wish I could know less than I do. Good fucking god.
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- 2 months ago
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