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sunset
2003-12-09, 12:36 a.m.

it was dark and i watched the curve of your shoulder as i drifted in and out of sleep. things were said in my sleep, and in yours. a nocturnal conversation between unconsciousnesses. blurry lines between what was said and what was dreamt. metaphorical musings without tactile sensations, silent and glory-filled. life is too large for this.

cerebral amputation: picasso without a right hand, klimpt creating akwardly without the most delicate and discovered part of his body. enthusiasm waning, yes, ridgchi broke me into two people. yes, i never thought to be brash was wrong. i feel my crippled cerebellum more acutely than if i had lost my right hand. too much came out and rather than learn my lesson that time, i ... wrapping my brain around nit picked ideas gives me headaches. i have no enthusiasm for you. yes, being brash is wrong.

life is never black and white. an electron stays in no true defined orbit. everything is a probobility, my life is shades of grey. i dont even believe in lines. nothing is straight forward. nothing is cookie cutter,

this probobility cloud is of a different shape than yours. i assume you to be flourine, astonishingly reactive. my noble gas has no defense against you, you shintoist, god is going to kick your ass you infidelic pagen scum.


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