Bread ... untitled and think of you ...
What scares you when you close the door behind you
the evening ...?
What
fragility behind the white form distinct, yet
scream ...
What disturbs your solitude, that smells like gas, closed
saturated?
push you to the point where the wolves and other ills. To this point
rummage through other lives mess, not out of curiosity
not out of malice.
Just to feel alive, do not disappear.
you think ...
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