sel-thompson

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Die Muskete, 1926

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Charles Bukowski, "assault," from What Matters Most is How Well You Walk through the Fire

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late night drive and a backseat fuck

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I crave a catastrophe—anything to justify this emptiness inside me.

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I wanna get violently high

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B🎃🎃BS.

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tell your girl she's hot or i will

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