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May 22, 2025 / barton smock

emptiness wrongly hears its name

I’ve put my hands on my brothers hoping they will want to equally die. In the dream it was me checking on me to see if I was faking sleep. You can change the mirror’s past with the face of god. In the dream they find ice in my stomach and shatter notions of conception concerning dying glass angels. Kill my aunt again I dare you. Eden had to be super small.

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