my
soul hurts. it aches with the dull
throbbing of a contusion under two fingers of pressure. the fact that time is slipping away from me
did not matter so much when that time was sucked dry of pleasure. now it rushes past, taunting my parched
throat with its oozy wetness. i want to
purr again at the end of the day. and
wake up without wanting to vomit.
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