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apocalynx
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makes sense, no focus, one blurred picture black plus white makes grey. all perspectives considered, i'm miles above the fence, or is it miles below, on a perfect line anyway just heightened with too much information, too many voices, and thus no decision, just apathy and a rapid heartbeat. you are not here, you are with many other boys bots, oh she comes to me and comforts me with scratches and broken veins, can i move from this futon.
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041224
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