Another soft spoken conundrum, laced with timid expressions of contempt. A weary head and tender bones accompany my mixed emotions. A full day ahead, the primordial start of something fresh, and new, like violent preparations for a slug in the face at 7am. I see savage, abrasive horizons, with sharp vertical lines interjecting squalidly. I see also my past, and future with vivid watercolours, yet the present tends to be somewhat clouded. Nevertheless, all three are writhing in misery, and the pangs of love.
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