i have watched my sanity slowly flow from my body before i could do one thing to stop it. my muscles have tensed with the unstable anxiousness that seems to be surging through my veins. tiny pieces of my skin are falling away with each passing second and everything is so saturated with color that the vibrance is nearly blinding
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i have been awoken something like three times in the past week by crying/screaming baby in my living room. how lucky am i? it's almost as if tchaikovsky is orchestrating a concert right outside my bedroom.
i am moving out like my apartment has the plague. which it probably does.
i walked for miles and left my fading ghost lying between the rusting train tracks in a city that i only saw as a blur. i heard the rumbling in the distance, and felt the ground shake beneath my feet, but never looked back to witness the execution of all i had ever been. i discovered a theme, in the way the clouds drifted before the sun, and the
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i was craving a tuna sandwich so i went and got one at lunch, to only discover when i got back to the office, that it was chicken salad. which i really do not care for, but was not about to drive all the way back to atlanta bread company to amend. unfortunate
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when the sky is cloudy i think of all the marks i've made on the walls of all the bedrooms. with the black paintbrush of my deceit, running slowly over the lips of all those who trusted that i'd always be the same. there's a cloud for every body, perhaps i've forgotten, and if it weren't for the wind, i would be so desperately alone. i consciously
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