Finished Folds (1—6)
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2archetype or ancient pattern, created and fulfilled. Back to "the garden" only to die in its sweet - Argh! Orange juice squirted in his eyes, cuts and the ragged hole above his rib
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6A manage a mois. Pale grunts and whispered breath in each of my six ears. You might call it masturbation, but I wasn't abusing myself. I wanted it. Bad
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3oline. Oh god, those nightmareish days at the circus. Jumping through hoops, walking the tight-rope, while Russ barked orders. Yes, he'd gotten what he'd deserved. But now he was
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5critical reception is overwhelmingly positive. A small minority claims the production "didn't make any sense", to which LGBT International pubicly responded "Go fuck yourself"
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6Breakfast of champions, I tell you what. So he mounted the threshold to his flat, hiked up his pajama pants, and stepped out into a snowy morning. The opiate cocktail pulsed warm
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3that its name is often a better description of its digestive terminus. There's no disputing matters of taste, but matters of the lower intestine are a whole 'nother