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Back slider slack jar skeleton key holding frame over old veneer cement factories. Nicotine fitting my way through sleep deprivations in a city hum near silent reverie. Wishes are prayers are mockeries against this ever present night playing jingle-jangle inside a rib-cage ranting death is near and unescapable and all mumbles and agreements to side mouth I do spout "Yes, yes, yes my dirty little death is very fucking nigh."