YABB3p0

in the end i break my teeth on the cyanide almond. the capacity for evil is trivial and irreducible. it is a rock in the bloodstream, it tumbles in the purifier and never gets out. no you can't wash this out. you can scrub & scratch yourself              into a corner through little transgressions. they say loitering on the edge heightens one's senses to things like pastel bricks of scarfwork     & liquor store workers who remember your name. they say hanging up on scam calls will             cost you an earthquake. is this an earthquake? what little love there is slinks gently like a beanstalk               wilting on the steel fen