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Dec 2013
...And the night deepens into swallowed thoughts and blurry vision. Every time you forget what it means to be human, the air gets cold, and bites you in the back of the throat. Inhale, hold, count to ten. It isn’t as it seems, and none of it exists anyway. It’ll fade into pale blues and grays with the morning light.
Nemo
Written by
Nemo  Texas
(Texas)   
403
   spacedrunk
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