There is a place where the streets are melting on the outside of the house. The black house. Where the sad ones are growing weary and the television in their eyes are turning off one by one. Where a pyramid at the top of the staircase toward the second floor is only growing larger and yet it is all wrong. The doors are being closed and no one is coming through. Kill those with the keys. They are liars. Kill them all.
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11 years, 2 months ago
23 Oct 2013 06:18 CEST
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