claymation couldnt have molded a better mind

November 12, 2011
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the temperature rises while my fingertips burn like small planets, orbiting the almighty God, which is your zestful desire. such, it is and so it shall- i dance around your rustic youth-full of perverse knowledge and mythological beauty you seek the pledge of my undying heart and everlasting embrace, a stone i shall become in ignorant sleep, each breath out a whisper for your to come closer and each gasp gripping my lungs- a plea to be forgiven.

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