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by Tara Carreon
Your theory is essentially, sir
Drink a thousand cups of wine
I don’t want five years ago
Boohoo, let’s all cry for the Illuminati
I don’t give a fuck what you’re talking about
That’s not going to give us any guidance about how to run our life
There is a tendency to cohere into yourself
You can’t just let go
It’s too dangerous
Things don’t go out, they go in.
Openness is contained within a body
A Vase Container
You don’t have to guide
Just keep the light on
It’s not actually irrational
Lucid dreaming
There are even stars in the sky
Do you really have control?
You live in a van
Take a slap in our hands, honey!
On the Trail of the Octopus
A bright white light star here
Revenue
Translucent heart
He can shoot dead, three actors
Have fun!
This is all the merry of the citizens who used the negative instead of
the hand-holding
She was a cowgirl
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