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I do
10:39 p.m. 2005-11-25

Sever me from this serene sense of near divinity. The dust on my desktop is accumulating and the lights overhead are flickering and fading. Depression is the steel in your gut and the sense of ending. The realization that a utopian night will never be perpetuated and the understanding that you are your own motivation for failure. In the vibration of the strings resonance constructs sound and sense. You'll never sit beside me the same way and I barely even knew you. So what's the point? The point is in the remembering. Static and satelites. Ever feel like an ending?

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words @ jake, layout @ kelly