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in a house full of                                   nothing the camera l u r k s like a ****** silently                                                      watches the floor weep into it's --------------------------------------FOUNDATION-------------------------------------------- and the knock!                  knock!                    knock! coming from the                                                                 closet door echos chos    hos    os and we sit and stare at heart-winning photographs; the children we used to be                                                        we  silently seep in the remembrance; narcissus was    not      in        love with himself he was   in     love        with          h-h i-i s-s   s-s h-h a-a d-d o-o w-w, the perceived                                                         nothing Just a trick of  -   -   -   light f a   l     l      i       n         g out of books like l e   a    v     e      s of emotion, like F        A                  T                               H                                           O                                                           M                                                                            S                                                    of suffering                                                 /  T / O / R / N / from your l  i  p  s like black tar on your s   k   i   n   camouflage for the                     A              B                 Y                      S                       S
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Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 7:02 PM UTC
ash tree lane
in a house full of                                   nothing the camera l u r k s like a ****** silently                                                      watches the floor weep into it's --------------------------------------FOUNDATION-------------------------------------------- and the knock!                  knock!                    knock! coming from the                                                                 closet door echos chos    hos    os and we sit and stare at heart-winning photographs; the children we used to be                                                        we  silently seep in the remembrance; narcissus was    not      in        love with himself he was   in     love        with          h-h i-i s-s   s-s h-h a-a d-d o-o w-w, the perceived                                                         nothing Just a trick of  -   -   -   light f a   l     l      i       n         g out of books like l e   a    v     e      s of emotion, like F        A                  T                               H                                           O                                                           M                                                                            S                                                    of suffering                                                 /  T / O / R / N / from your l  i  p  s like black tar on your s   k   i   n   camouflage for the                     A              B                 Y                      S                       S
I just finished reading House of Leaves.
ebelanger91
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Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 7:02 PM UTC
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