tread soft, tiny little sled boots: feel each decietful crater collapse a repeted catastrophic death, (the capsized glaciar fits your sole one hundred times!) though you will buckle slide-step shriek- back to your burrow of felt, your strange vapours wander.
I don't leave a trace or like to remember things. I have raging obsessions and am hysterical on a regular basis. I sever my ties and am full of fruit salad, (love to) lie and am too vague to be conceptual.
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