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It’s when you sit down and your ass already hurts. The lamp shade remains crooked, but you put it off Until tomorrow and you start falling into that place; The place without walls, but filled with floaty feelings,
Mission Control cannot be reached. and unfortunately there has been a breach out into the atmosphere goes my Mind Hopefully it will not be hard to find
Pull and push, breathe. Tug and tear, breathe. Claw and grasp, breathe. Stare at the ceiling, whilst the present tries to slip away, as you hold to it so desperately
sleeping, I should be sleeping, But you find me here up and writing keys clicking space bar tapping anxious but calm intervals of still and shaking
Am I angry? Am I sad?
Subject wakes up. Two dozen lashes. Leaves spring from the trees. Subject falls asleep. It can’t stay awake it seems. Doors: A, B, and C