středa 25. března 2015

PUKE

I want to run away.
I want to fly.
I want to breathe.
I want to live.

I want to eat some fucking poetry up.
I want to fill myself with visual art.
I want to absorb music.

I want to be loved.
I want tenderness.
I want to fuck.

And finally - I want to lose all my hope.

I don't want to care anymore.


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