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Sat in a puddle of leaves, rocks, and mud just to get my pants wet.
Where am I at? That's a good one.
Traditional life for me makes clanging sounds in my right brain, but the left brain fights sometimes and that's only natural.
Sight and scope. Let you aim. Beat sight forms a pain. Strained sight feels the same.
In 1975, I wasn't alive. I wasn't a guy. I wasn't a girl.
Maybe I was we and we were hovering above my mother, waiting to step in.
Waiting with the dying guy in room #35. Slipping in and out. Why are they keeping him alive?
I went out to the east side. Nothing was happening. Took a stroll down town. Nothing was there.