Too much information.
The kinetics kill everything.
Well, it's predictable.
And yet, horribly, sickeningly novel.
One of those nights.
Disgusting, but a contained retch.
So am I cataloguing
the mess? I just have to find a positive spin, I guess.
I was adept at that, for a time, maybe I can attune
to the apropos wavelength - well, my head was a good
place to be, once upon a time, not like I should READ
anything into recent incidents, because words are a
medium that won't translate to reality
I'm thinking
at this point
a pre-emptive
ex-communication
myself
banished from the world
whatever that might be
are you fringe enough for me?
i'll meet you on the edge
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