February 2012
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I hate
no-lungs:
your bad tattoos
your second-hand stories
those anecdotes that grew old last month
the way you move when you’re drunk and try dancing
the way I get when I can’t handle bad news
the way you can’t keep your hair straight
the way that you’re leaning on me
the way you point out when girls are staring
the context clues you leave out of your writing
when you call me wasted
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pukegreencloud:
One time I was at church and some lady offered me some wine
I knocked that shit out of her hands, flashed my X’s and yelled STAYTRUE
Then I walked the fuck out
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