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Anonymous
Nebulaes Bloom, Planets Zoom And Comets Zoom Around The Checkerboard Like A Bratty Little Brother On His New Blue Bike Leaving Snail Trails Of Ice In His Wake.
Ancient Cosmic Afterbirth Floats Helplessly On It's Own Inertia Waiting Impatiently For The Next Bullying Gas Giant To Nudge It Towards It's Next Destination And I Sit In A Thai Restaurant Bashing In The Curry, Fretting Over The Uncertainty Of The Dawn.
I Need To Arm Myself Like A Rodent Lower On The Food Chain Readying Itself For The Next Attack From All Sides. The Voice Inside The Box Is Certain That If I Get What He Has My Armour Will be Complete, My Hole Will Be Filled, And The Bombardment Will Cease.
"This Sweater Does This, This Gadget Does Those, And This Magazine Will Address The Most Pertinent Aspects Of My...dot, dot, dot, com" And I Believe Him! I Don't Want To But I Do.
I Am A Little Kitten In A Big, Shit Filled Litter Box And I Share This Facility With A Billion Other Fiercely Independent Felines Who Want Badly To Arm Themselves Too Against The Burdens Of Uncertainty And Keep Their Paws Clean In the Meantime, Meantime, Meantime, Meantime...
Yet The More I Dig The More I Consume, The More I Unfold, The Less Protected I Feel.
I Am The Spit On The Hair Of The Son Of An Electron Swimming Around The Nucleus Of A Cell Inside The Sperm Of A Killer Bee And My Purpose Is As Nebulous As Why We've Been Bestowed With The Capacity To Give A Shit.
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