and I'll sock you. Or carve
you against my
incarnation with wings that etch
the sky like boughs. I am
terrible. The rest of my host
function as a mafia. Lately
discussing the arsenal. This
millennium smaller might
be the thing: biologicals
have the appeal of seeming in-
effability. Can you comprehend
how I would favor video
games packed with old
fashioned carnage? Well
done. This world sadly, palely
imprints eternity. Biblical
proportion--to approach celestial
displeasure by measurable
experiential means--
it's just a beginning.
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