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Candlelights. The flames. They scare me. See the orange fighting for dominance. A scene alone. Come out onto the street in nighttime pajamas. Sit there and watch the fire tear things down.


Pitting the time against time, I rushed to seek out a host in my past who would keep me from harm. The people demanded so little I regard them all out of my own money. I look back and wonder why. A casino, and a casket to lay a remainder of pilgrims in the ground. Starvation gets you. Against the survival, the campaign launched. Taking off from a jet port flying away to begin task one. Superseding premeditated suicide being the opportunity to sleep in London before you die, go away. It all means so much if you’ve never been there. And suicide being permanent (I think) it becomes an issue at hand,  double that of whether to take on a hunch and follow through with an idea master plan that could bring another beautiful baby before you go. Something things are worth sticking around, at least for awhile.


        Careful thought averting some ordeal bound in mistakes, coming to me from a whim


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