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boil.

i'm laying in the grass. face up. laptop blaring some tunes. looking at how clear the sky is despite being a cloudy day. maybe i'm just making it up. maybe i'm just making all of this shit up.it is fucking cold out here. wet. and peaceful.

the possibility of regret has a tight hold on my throat. heart. and hand. it's warm sometimes. and keeps me hanging on.

8:09 p.m. - 2009-12-04

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