Every Fox Is A Rabid Fox by Harry Gallon
death, dying, dead
death, dying, dead
I get angry and confused because I’m repressed and have elitist interests
Men are disgusting.
I’m bored of life, but this book’s a banger.
Should non-fiction books about intoxicants even be legal, yeah?
In America alone, 281 pounds of pig shit is produced for every one person per year. I don’t know if that’s a lot as I don’t know what a pound is.
I’m an abyss filling up with regret and alcohol at equal measure, like a really wet martini.
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