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Tuesday, June 28, 2011


Myotaku (Helping Insomniacs Like Me Cope Since Forever)
We are the raw energy shed by every tactful poem.
We are the half-dead heroes reaching for our guns flung forty miles away.
We are the sisters that catch you the split second before you hit the pavement, the mothers who knives to your Demons' throats and send them back to Hell empty-handed.
We are the angels who watch over you somewhere or everywhere between ten at night and ten in the morning because we can never sleep.
We are infinitely talented writers and whiners who drank that last shot of espresso way too close to midnight. And we're out of sleeping pills. Again.
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