jack Kerouac

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when he walks into the room, there is no room, only people there are no people, only faces and names only voices and thoughts his nonexistent pen glides across the convolutions of his brain
Dr. Phil and Dr. Oz The picket-fathers of modern psychoanalysis And medicine Gnashing our flaws away in gory applause
Look at the rebels of old, of their joys and pain, GRASP their sensory EMBRACE  CARESS their views. It's why we're here. a foundation CHURNING DISCERNING
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