Logh
Ghosts
i'm writing reports of the days and the nights. locked up for years in a measure of mind. when with a net of nothing. i was trying to catch the motions of a mind. and the methods of a crime. i never saw the chance. and never what i held in my hands. the lights are all red in this town. where i'm killed by exhausts. and alcohols that dry out my skin. i never had a clue of the role that i played. but that's the condition and the price that we pay
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