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11:01 a.m. 2006-01-10

they cut notes on your skin like derision and the tremulant humiliation. They traced patterns over flesh in blades, those massed inferior manifestations of inversion and introversion- demons to dance the regrets and fears of your life under fires lit by fear of being burned. They left the scars with your hands included and I was one among that throng, causing a crumbling of comfort and norms and you were trembling at the consequences and they fed into you like cancer. But when you bled you never thought that maybe someday it could be your hands on knives pulling faith and curse through your skin withdrawing edifice and lifesblood with the causation of others dripping in eye sockets to emanate and reanimate old death? We maybe hurt you you may bleed at our hands but remember doll, you give us knives everyday and I never asked for that. I love you.

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words @ jake, layout @ kelly