You can write goddamit!
I have no time for pleasantries, which may not please, but it’s a modern disease, days like these force us to squeeze every moment dry till the great goodbye when we can only lie and see the sky fully for the first time and ask why we didn’t do so before, why did profit and product conduct us so, to forgo our very reason for being.
I am fighting to get my life back, while in my heart I just want to sleep in a mist that can steal my memories and make a truly new man of me without the history of such fierce gravity, or the knowledge which only teaches that tomorrow holds no releases.
How do I fit into this world without becoming more like its sickness?
If we protected with the same zeal as we persecute, though perhaps without the disgusting vicarious glee, then we might…
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