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Sunday, July 18, 2010

Text me.

When no one's looking, I place my finger's to my temple in a gun-shape, and blast. 

Out go my brains, perhaps. 

When no one's looking, I move my hands up to my neck and squeeze tight. In my head, I argue, "I just want something solid to hold onto." 
Tonight, we'll write the words we want to say on paper,
and burn it. 

It's funny, because it's not a joke, but people still laugh.
It's funny, because all of it's not really a game.

Bang, bang, you're dead. 

Or is it me?

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