this is dangerous — House of Heart (A fabulous poem from Holly)

The professor was always watching me, chasing after me, whispering warnings as though he were my father. Still I tore at those wounds, those itching scabs of words until I ripped off their secrets. At night he played piano in a sleazy bar singing about revolution in his ragged jeans smoking weed and preaching anarchy. […]

via this is dangerous — House of Heart

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