Forever The Sickest. You wish for all the dreadful bulks to disintegrate before cockcrow. You wonder if garbage enzymes taste like rotten starfruits and cheddar. You don’t know how to fix a wispy, broken arm of a space monkey. You stare at your own brainchild plenteously- a scaly fish burger and could almost smell the funk, raw and filthy. You are dumb with speech, there’s a beer bottle spinning in mid-air, and you just want to go to sleep…
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