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m u t e






leaving at first light as the dregs of the night stumble through waking streets and stare from silent taxis.
luminous grey light hangs in the air of sleep as i creep into the house. entering the mechanics of the machine...
whilst entertaining dreams of africa, wherever...

Sometimes you don't need to come here ...
How many of your selves use the same arsehole to sleep with right through our life,
as ignorant as similar, for to give us something we're unable to master.
The more you try to say, the more you dig your grave on the carefully maintained ruins of a battered manual;
i couldn't say i agreed, nor disagreed, going through the words twisted in meaning, huge black holes that say "yes" to all questions



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