The unbereable, lugubrious and obscene plotting of rowdy, stumbling voices which pour image into memory. As an elective indecent geology. Will you suffer the grief of gushing into memory? Or will you have the angelic transfiguration into the consistency of an image? Memory imprisons images as a boast mantles a reprobate. We will fall. It is natural
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stumbling voices which pour image into memory.
As an elective indecent geology.
Will you suffer the grief of gushing into memory?"
I think in this order they sound brighter.
*Or maybe i've read Majakovskij too much:))*
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