From a birthday card: I’ll play saint if you stay the sinner. But what you mean to me is no interest of god, and it belongs in the mud. I can’t take you to heaven. So I’ll stay down here, with you. With the stench of dead hope. The lash of your tongue. The ache in our heart.
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I’m a bad influence. She was such a spiritual being before she met me. 
1:54 AM - 14 Jun 2018
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