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Maybe what we fear most is not failure but the idea of what could be lost.
In your colossal columns of sand and grit are buried, forgotten under barrels of fresh paint, Kaleidoscopes of vision and neon colors. fast. Bumper-to-bumper on 95.
Christmas Day, the supposed day of the birth of Jesus, is the day of giving presents, eating food, and spending long stretches of time with family.
My stomach growls and hisses Each breath I take angers the pits of my belly My intestines secretes restlessly its enzymes Urging me to feed.   The beaten path that lays before me
I am tonight’s DJ.I am neon strobe lights having a seizurein warehouse storage rooms. My music floods
Where Am I? Mexico?  I'm sorry, I don't speak spanish all that well. Shame on me? OK. Everything smells different. Roosters in the road. Where are all of the mountains & hills?
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