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5.22.2005
PUTON
To calm the fizz her palms spread on a table close to vertical take off through much powerful thought and too much chasing things she's never caught but startled awake with otherworldly hints of the farce returning atoms to her pulse's core where particles leap fitfully in tandem with the fixed constituent case of her flesh. And worlds dwelling there are seeped and sunken by the shadow screws spiralling to horizon's skewered window of what is known but in this moment. A sole image beyond virtual just like the never seen spectrum ring of her spectre's webbed to ribbed perfecting cold mind coolly analysing all.
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