“...drifting to the streets of no destination was my eternal passtime... n' then comes the moment of gettin' caught in the swamps of memory... followed by hurried motion of arms n' legs. suffocatin' in the depths of past again n' again. all of these had a custom of layin' myself down in the tracks of reality.. n' then' would come the train of life... tearin' n' shatterin' every part of me. to still carry myself all torn n' withered n' broken was undoubtedly the worst part.”
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