when thoughts collide like extraterrestrial doomsday machines hellbent with wrought destruction and hedonistic deification. alone we stand. can you see through the myriad of clutter? does a certain scent stick out among this maelstrom of fragrant chaffes? is it possible to latch onto a single idea, a lone emotion? pure for all lack of
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how do you think *I* feel then?
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hopefully i'll see you tonight.
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