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01 August 2009

i am but onion skin.

the warm body in the room, breathing furniture, transformed over-night to no more than a single, albeit most collossal pachederm.

a bird's eye view of tiwsting, highly viscous floors composed neatly of swarovski crystals and free-range eggshells to form a river basin dried and ready to traverse.
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deaf secretaries.


reasons.

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      • disgust in disguiseyour love cloaked in lies.you w...
      • i can't hear you over those pants.
      • i hear the thunder, rolling in.
      • familiarity breeds contempt.
      • a drunken letter to myself. found behind my bed.
      • i am but onion skin.
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