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He decides it's a sign: bad things come in threes. He'll break one more of her things, by accident of course. Then, when that's over, he'll say it; like Jules, he'll croon, he'll sing sweetly into her ear and then she'll know he can talk about love and duct-tape what's broken
The Angel Riots, Ibi Kaslik
We’ll not live like this. They will try to bury us with false manifestoes, inscribe us in wars against false enemies but we’ll sing songs about dying from loving the wrong cowboy and gospel; our bodies will burn in effigies of promise.
I swear.
set yourself on fire