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I can no longer express the events in my life in a cognitive, literary fashion. I have now become a dazed combination of broken words, fleeing emotions, repetitive thoughts, and aching memories; all coated in layer upon layer of confusion. ‘Sleep those little slices of death; oh how I loathe them’, and yet they still beckon my name. Clawing and dragging my mind into unconsciousness. As the night envelops me, I silently pray. Pray my dreams do not devour me tonight, with the sharp fanged jaw that is thoughts of you.
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Mar 9, 2010
Mar 9, 2010 at 9:37 PM UTC
Edgar Allan Poe and the Sleeping Medication
I can no longer express the events in my life in a cognitive, literary fashion. I have now become a dazed combination of broken words, fleeing emotions, repetitive thoughts, and aching memories; all coated in layer upon layer of confusion. ‘Sleep those little slices of death; oh how I loathe them’, and yet they still beckon my name. Clawing and dragging my mind into unconsciousness. As the night envelops me, I silently pray. Pray my dreams do not devour me tonight, with the sharp fanged jaw that is thoughts of you.
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Mar 9, 2010
Mar 9, 2010 at 9:37 PM UTC
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