martes, 23 de febrero de 2010

It's gold.

I left my body behind. Streets, and the rain. Go on. Sounds, while they paint the streets. Gold, fresh gold. And the sun. Now, the police. Again. And the sun. This fucking sun. The end is coming but I can't move and I look but I can't see. The police. The sun. I am hot. Gold. He's gone now, and I am getting older. It's gold.

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