Love is an antithesis like pregnant nuns. The remnants of a blazing sun. Like rain drops to the dry concrete. The mother of all sacred sons. A city with such lonesome streets filled with lust and driven greed. And all the pain like metro trains rushing down into the rain. The relicts of all ruptured vows like gleamy and like jaded crowns. Between deliverance and all loss repeat the prayer to the cross: "Set free what you love! The desire to feel whole is the worst wish of all!"
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