We held hands on the night on earth. Our filled with dust, we kissed in the fields and under trees, like dogs, bleeding dark into the leaves. It was empty on the edge of but we knew everyone floated along the of the river. So we walked through the waste where the curved into the sea and the seasons lay, and the smell of burning was on you like a disease. In our cancer of you said, "Death is a midnight runner." The sky had come crashing down like the of an intimate suicide. We picked up the shards and formed into shapes of stars that like an antique wedding dress. The echoes of the past broke the hearts of the as the ferris wheel silently to a stop. The few insects away in hopes of a better pastime. I kissed you at the apex of the maelstrom and if you would me in a quick fall, but you made me that my ticket wasn't good for two. I alone. You said, "The are falling like snow." is poetry in despair, and we sang with unrivaled beauty, bitter of savagery and eloquence. Of and grey. Strange, we ran down desperate streets and carved our in the flesh of the city. The sun was stagnated beyond the rim of the horizon and the darkness is a mystery of and lines. Still, we lay the emptiness and drifted slowly outward, and somewhere in the wilderness we found scratched into the earth a message.
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