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Saturation saturated by sadness that the doctors try to wring free of me drop by drop while I slam dance upon my dew covered spiderweb and swim the backstroke through my tears... like a sponge absorbed with my soggy character and limp within my own personal crucifixion my imperfections a steady conspicuous drip... my skin flushed and glistening enveloped by the swirling humid chaos of my ponderous self hatred... I cannot seem to wriggle free- of the damp cocoon of me |
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