((( Ŧĭмŏŧђ )))
moth
Like the serenity of asphalt, Timoth was a joke he couldn't stop playing on himself.
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Monday, January 10, 2011
It rages
The secret words scrawled on the backs of bricks
In the chest shattering grins of the militant love
Whose name is love and that love is a fist that will smash through the world and arrange the stars for the eyes of my love.
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