There is No Sweeter Innocence Than Our Gentle Sin

"Alright, alright, all jokes aside--"

Jokes.   What a word. What a concept, to be laughing at something such as this.   What a beautiful atrocity.   Lives would come to an end, and be buried with cackles poisoning the soil of their gravesites. Tombstones defaced and disregarded. They would read: born in 1962, died in 1984. Died a queer, born to be forgotten.   ~~~~~~~   After the TVA burns to the ground, two of the sparks find themselves living in Astoria, Illinois, 1984. No way out, a small life, and two lovers who found solace in each other’s arms and their life together.   ~~~~~~~   I’m not sure if this is good or not, I haven’t written in forever, but uhhhhh, lots of feelings, lots of queer purity, lots of writing style changes. Because I’m a mess of a gay teenage boy and I’m inconsistent as fuck. Bon appetitty.