Hungover

February 20, 2012

My mouth is thick. My cheeks grow with every scratchy word. I am dishonest for pretty words. I trip over myself and secrets bruise memories. A fuzzy mess of desire. Not just flesh but mind. Both pink and ripe. An easy target. Dying for a time before. But everything is blue, purple, and black dripping with nothings. Hunt me. Find me. Destroy me.

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