Sidewalkpoets

There was this empty hole in their chest; you could almost hear it. Sometimes they'd think they were hungry, or that they needed to get laid or have a cigarette, or maybe if they drank five shots in rapid succession they could wet it and fill it up, but they'd do all that and this desolate hole under their rib cage would still be there: right above their stomach and below their heart. That was the time they knew they gotta start a band.

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