ben-green
American
These days the phones bleed thick fog and bad news, so let’s walk the ghost town in ground pulling boots painted with gore of the dead minds all around inside the glass city- hungry for weakness. Offer noise for the global eroticism (though dying), that which; causes soul dust to drift and divide.. Did you know we can release the warm morning sun that slips between all senses with an invigorated thought? We can give birth to all mystical change, Blessed are we who burst into stars.
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