Sublimate, Don’t Hate


It makes sense that a sitcom would kill off its star in some hooker-driven car crash off the cliffs, but where does Ashton Kutcher fit in?
And why is all I can think about
is things I
shouldn’t
the smell of sweat
sweet
permeates
the sticky ness
of night
after drowning
in sorrow
or joy
depending
on
the
second
hand
frame rate

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