These sentences slip past these ghost town images of my sundays. indecisive, this was the car accident. coiled in lost perspective to horrid tales of expectation. reread words wrote wrong into this disillusion. somewhere in the insomnia of always not knowing. i'd rather be dead.
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These sentences slip past these ghost town images of my sundays. indecisive, this was the car accident. coiled in lost perspective to horrid tales of expectation. reread words wrote wrong into this disillusion. somewhere in the insomnia of always not knowing. i'd rather be dead.
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