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if you held me, i would probably crumble in your arms and fall on the floor in a pile of dust. you see, im not very well put together.
777 "I carry death in my left pocket. Sometimes I take it out and talk to it: ‘Hello, baby, how you doing? When you coming for me? I’ll be ready.’"
— Charles Bukowski (via 120mm)
(via zeitgeistqueen)
