jared

Rick Troll

Thoughtsslowly slough,cascades caress the cupit floweth overwith too much andno room for my own thoughtsto breathe beneaththis stagnant pool of misinformation. Head is filled, brimming,with things I’d long to say:a

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In her shoes

Like that one girl Alice, hurtlingdown that rabbit’s holedeeper into madnessearth, onto my dress unsure of where I’mrunning tothe fantasy, lostas I cry.Mascara running, too.I’m torn, like mystockings, soulsoiled Eat

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