Cut Out Taylor Coyle There is a layer of dust on your words so archaic that speaking to you requires having my allergy medication at hand. I often grow tired of you kissing me like Judas, and I despise your accusations. Why do we cat and mouse and dog each other, feign empathy? With you as Hamlet, and I as Horatio, I decide I need my allergy medication more than your occasional company. This is the loss of an association, and the gain of a rather relentless spine.
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