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By Max • Jun 29th, 2007 • Category: Misc the abstraction of self
across a boulevard of things to come.
finding me, finding myself,
sitting in the graces of of here and now.
spewing out letters i wrote,
things ive said in silence and without place.
break it down, i said,
break it down to a level of intimate hate.
i run in a circle of myself,
i walk and run and fall onto the beginnings.
the start of it all,
the end to which we find ourselves tangled.
Max is
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