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What Could Be

back then when i was living in burlington vermont, it was actually a big bit after i was actually living there because it was about a month before i was being kicked out for not paying rent

which was fair, maybe two, i was working at urban outfitters not doing a goddamn thing and

there was this gay kid who was friends with the band title fight which i respected and so he

told me there at urban outfitters, he was also a black kid, and he told me there at urban out-

fitters that he didn't have a place to go for awhile before some reasons and so I told him

that he could have a seat for a bit in the apartment I wasn't paying for when I got out of work

and so he met me outside the store probably I couldn't really remember if i tried I think that

this was about around two thousand and eleven so I was there and he was there and we were talking a little about here and there and nothing and I told him that I was mostly about

doing drugs all the time and that I had no goals in life whatsoever and that I just liked to abuse myself into non-thinking skills and he actuallyy shed a few tears and asked me why and I said I don't know why and he said that it pains him that I would want to hurt myself as

such as I did and when he left a few hours later I noted the time and wrote a bit about how it must have caught me off guard it must have meant something to me then because it was so surprising to me that suddenly I had realized the difference between me and everybody else who was using, in the rounds, and and it's quite obvious to me even now that's what being an arms length away from a new kind of army seems to me now that it still doesn't change a

goddamn thing but at the time I could respect that, I can still kick the can with the best of them in my memory, the future lies a distance into history I cant repeat into words spoken with dignity and honest speech cursive from the curled tongue of blasphemy twisting off in coloured dissary the second hand not wanting to move at the command of time's whirling

mechanism at the outlandish thought, not a second more than grasping the forward march

rounds the hour with divulgent disbelief in things receeding into the distance of history at

the mind within expanded and in expanding, closing pathways, cut off limbs left to mark the place where it is to rest on the stone again without thinking could be for a moment possibly

where am I, where I once was disappeared a million and one times, with every footstep just

one more collapse just one more hour to the minute just years go by two thousand and eleven was barely the beginning and far past the end thirteen screen doors in hidden gardens labyrinth nine the curtailed sleeves for digging a grave on sacred burial grounds

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