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12.24.09 / 6:31 pm
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the time and space, the diligence with which i've ceaselessly worked to set myself apart; the hearts and broken hearts, the clouds, the fogs of memories, the abrupt stops, the starts. alone, i am still working, always something of a man in progress, remarkable only in my limbs and asymmetric parts.and in my mind, i try to see futures, to see the price of self-imposed perfection; and sometimes, i see only the brightness with which i want to shine, a blinding light in which i want to rest my own unsteady heart.
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