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tracing the stone throbbing in silence. they're just shoes. they're just letters rid of ripostes. shades fleeting tell no significance. again, they're just (more than) shoes. insignias emblazon carnage. the Earth is prone. it's just land seeking fill. supine on bed, it's just a land seeking fill — they're just shoes worn by flesh and by thinning air. light toppled on the grave of my fingernail. it's no paroxysm of macabre. they're just there, sitting idly, like beasts in final stands limned by sudden emergence of woods. just some of its non-existence, my mind's concept of I and all things refuted its sorry plaything.
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Nov 6, 2015
Nov 6, 2015 at 11:10 AM UTC
Who Put This Brain In Me?
tracing the stone throbbing in silence. they're just shoes. they're just letters rid of ripostes. shades fleeting tell no significance. again, they're just (more than) shoes. insignias emblazon carnage. the Earth is prone. it's just land seeking fill. supine on bed, it's just a land seeking fill — they're just shoes worn by flesh and by thinning air. light toppled on the grave of my fingernail. it's no paroxysm of macabre. they're just there, sitting idly, like beasts in final stands limned by sudden emergence of woods. just some of its non-existence, my mind's concept of I and all things refuted its sorry plaything.
windsor-i-guadalupe-jr
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Nov 6, 2015
Nov 6, 2015 at 11:10 AM UTC
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