The long sentence

“Quick and easy”, says the heart, slowly as it rises past the midmorning prayer, crushing its self into something even more gross then your words could ever make it, and yet you sit there and you drag out your guilty words and you drag out your empty sorrow and pray to god it slows  down even more because you want it to hurt because you need it to hurt and it will never be enough for you  until its all drawn out and you forget the point.

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