I will make you cry tears of blood. Get ready to be depressed.
Dance in the Full Moon
O, the Frailty of Memory
Thursday, November 1, 2018
11.1
The atmosphere of this morning is dead to me already, buried, mourned, dissolved. Its creeping corpse has three minutes left, but I am not looking at it any more. I've let it go. It can't hurt me ever again.
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