the healing toucha dot that joins itselfwithin itselfall by itselfhave you ever tried thisat home all alone with everybodytacit books and wise masks with sad seaside balloon-sellersthrough the sandsone gibberish city of mundanearise arise it has been goodneonall the smilestoasts raised hoisted petticoats flags of who we aremirrors of subjectivity.  Mad time. One meme life. One bullet life.



But when all the chips were down, history had gone to meet the daughter of the clouds.

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