the life of the fire flickers in scented artificial breeze a millionfold over. absinthe glow and hair wash warmth to delineate divine resurrection from hope for something -- anything. waxy hands twice coated flake and fracture in the wake of hammerhead conjecture. touch my teeth with your tongue and pretend it never happened. it never happened. nothing happens.
illusive state through mysticism project twice removed from fraternal epidermis existence myth.
leave me to my own regards and i will cultivate impromptu nothing choreography from endless fields of nowhere.
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