The first punch hits the hardest but after that it all rolls from the tips of my thumbs. Such a steady drum. Like the sound of a heart beating against pavement while hands find home in silver bracelets. The echo of footsteps bouncing off alley walls. I tap. The screen is smooth but my words are rough. Jagged and unclean like a lost kid's razor. We stay chasing a runaway sun, taking us home to nowhere. Savior.
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