Intense, my adrenaline rush, pupils dialate. Everything seems magnified, clearer than before. Sounds amplified. The Spit of God, showering upon us. Nourishing the plants which entangles between our toes. The mud soft and ice cold. Your cold blue lips producing little mist bubbles. Burst them and make a wish.
Everyone goes through a fat stage.. God, when's mine going to be?
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