THE STOLEN KISSES OF PEPO PUMM
This is the sound of two hands clapping off the dust. I’m done. I’m done thinking about her. I have abraded my pride for years now. I have abraded my pride to the quick. No more. I can’t take it anymore. It ends.
Grow up! Grow the fuck up! Grow up or just blow your brains out. You are useless this way
But what can I do? Drugs? Alcohol? What would be the point of anesthesia?
You might as well end it. You’re done.
I’m going to feel this way forever, aren’t I?
Your kind of love is a heart cancer.
My heart is the size of a pumpkin! A Jerk-O-Lantern. A Jack-Off-O-Lantern! With a hole carved out of it in the shape of us together.
“Oh, no, no!” pleaded little Pepo Pumm as his…
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