when reason makes a trip to the other side, we slip under the cover, swim in the town's tide. let go just to discover how little we know about each other, how o ften we avoid each other's eyes. it's like hail on our backs. we're digging up n othing but broken bones. we determine too much over the telephone. it's like sta le laughter and fake smile soup. this tastes like shit. you taste like shit some times. you'd be more fun if you weren't so afraid of getting a little salt in yo ur eyes.
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