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Apr 27, 2025
I did not will them dreams of crystals a stupid calendar of flight from insomnic past.
Do not want to return to future, hub of my clouds. History had been writhing and screaming. Present cannot redeem my woes.
I ask my bleak, frosted branches where the birds have gone? The songs, green hills, divine particles? When they will enter in frozen affairs?
Anti-matter is now colliding with black energy I am faltering a rhythm. helplessly watch a xenomorphic face disappearing in the blue sky.
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