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I need to leave this place.

They call it hell sometimes

Or life.

Infinite. But I need more space

For creativity; some deadly crimes.

One knife.

Impossible. Our vomiting human race.

Bloodsucking; it slimes.

Our wife.

I need to rip my face.

Your poem never rhymes.

My strife.

— written at 6:48 AM, August 6, after watching A Scanner Darkly

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“The brain is the most overrated organ.”

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