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Darkness, it comes for me.
6.10.08
XCLIV.
Too tired to dream.
Too mused to think.
The words come but
I'm out of ink.
So low now that
I can't even sink.
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Broken Records. Broken Teeth.
Recalled To Life
vile and wretched
Wealth and Excursions
Meaningless, Meaningless, Meaningless
Pastoral Genocide
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