shadowbox all you want: here’s a formidable opponent intimate in its designs running perfectly counter.
a quick hop over the rift in space time unleashes God knows, to the point where the symmetry of 2 11s, make a wish, is as serendipitous as a fortune cookie.
polarity; even the reptile’s ancestors know that, way before sacrificial cults. so maybe sometimes the face of the earth needs correction. at whose hand?
scapegoats are factory farmed. scripts are written, down to the chainlink. meanwhile, a pacific lullaby becomes an alibi for the white guy
Oh, round moon, please, drop it low enough to taste, compensate this imbalance lest we fail as ever in search of peace unconflicted, but until then, let the Charleston be tolerated, the Twist be taboo, and if the calendar is a circle of control, then the horror is there is no end, and terror is when people get together to plot murder, The End. what say you, Maya?
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