:: Out of Spite, Out of Mind ::

Autopsy of the psyche, pouring salt on old wounds and adding insult to injury

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:: Saturday, April 03, 2004 ::

So I return, briefly... like driving past your old house and pointing to your bedroom. There's someone in the doorway, familiar but long lost. You squeeze the hand of the girl next to you. The girl who loves you.

:: Ol Man Factory 4/03/2004 09:05:00 PM [+] ::
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