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Seen and done, the raccoon with the shiny gem and the dark man on a throne, a castle of glass and eternity unknown. If the universe is a
cyclone then in the calm of the eye there's someone, the gaze of a dragon and chin on fist, the simultaneous smile and frown as all
of this sparkles and swirls down into the juxtapose of a meaningless road. There was, I think, a time when-
I know you, it's been done over and over. It's shredded black burnt rubber of a tire that explodes, the long cold, the bones that
bitch about the way life is just a story over told. Call it gold, call it toad, skulk in the rain and say it's sold, all the while
where's your soul?
Strange that you'd ask. I don't know.
Question a wolf. It's pigs and bricks and blow, every bridge needs a troll.
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Seen and done, the raccoon with the shiny gem and the dark man on a throne, a castle of glass and eternity unknown. If the universe is a
cyclone then in the calm of the eye there's someone, the gaze of a dragon and chin on fist, the simultaneous smile and frown as all
of this sparkles and swirls down into the juxtapose of a meaningless road. There was, I think, a time when-
I know you, it's been done over and over. It's shredded black burnt rubber of a tire that explodes, the long cold, the bones that
bitch about the way life is just a story over told. Call it gold, call it toad, skulk in the rain and say it's sold, all the while
where's your soul?
Strange that you'd ask. I don't know.
Question a wolf. It's pigs and bricks and blow, every bridge needs a troll.
I can snarl
Category Story / All
Species Unspecified / Any
Gender Any
Size 120 x 82px
The sonic boom of a bullet train, the coy and sinister way someone dodges blame, every fucking poem is based on the same tired thing: vowels. Owls. The rats are jumping ship every word under the sun cannot paint the sorrow of it.
So?
You have me there. I'll have another, try to forget I ever wrote any of this.
There will come a time and place when your ability to cleverly forget will haunt you so.
I don't care about your prophecies. Besides, you're lying.
Am I?
Trust me, there's nothing here but doom. One of these days I'm going to-
You have me there. I'll have another, try to forget I ever wrote any of this.
There will come a time and place when your ability to cleverly forget will haunt you so.
I don't care about your prophecies. Besides, you're lying.
Am I?
Trust me, there's nothing here but doom. One of these days I'm going to-
One last thing to say? What does the fox say? Tell me.
Twisted oblivion, the blackness of a page like hypnosis, the words swirl in a storm and though sense is my wish the only form they ever take is a certain sorrowful chaos. Truth is my continued existence was an accident, I should have ceased to be long ago.
Twisted oblivion, the blackness of a page like hypnosis, the words swirl in a storm and though sense is my wish the only form they ever take is a certain sorrowful chaos. Truth is my continued existence was an accident, I should have ceased to be long ago.
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