Flaming on the Banks of the Ohio Here I am in the turquoise room with her despair. The cycles are spinning. And there are no washrooms in this house. Lately she has been given to pruning as a form of documentation of her love for me. But all I ever asked was for the patience to persevere in this life as it did so in the last. But the beast wheezes too at this proposal. So damaged now is the aberration we have wed ourselves to.
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