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Tropical Iceage Arts 

Tropical Iceage

I look for you in a crowd of lips they all taste the same, really yours would have, too I bend over your flame you twist me into something new I am your friend- – – I am your friend. a thousand, thousand houses all lined up and I sleep in the cold it’s easy to melt and sear metal cutthroat for a- – – but it hurts to write softly I am ice cold you are a ghost of a volcano rupture, burn, break, crack why are you so…

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