It's
hell. Inside and out. Inside out. Take a lick in the heat. Navigate your
tongue through sweat to drink, to eat, to fuck. The remote control in
your pocket belongs to a television that was crushed in the collapse of a
housing project, it was a donation. But you held onto the control. The
heat has been turned up and you can't turn the volume down with that
piece of shit. Run: Wave of water; Wave of fire; Wave of bullets...Hell,
it won't be love.
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