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There are so many useless things these hands have done.
forgive me for being a little crestfallen. I will keep running until I am free of feeling. Until you are free from thinking I assume some sort of privilege. Until I can will this body to disappear at the slightest sign of embarrassment. Until the pangs of regret can be mistaken for a hasty stretch and careless form.
and so: the shape of your goneness has flared up anew.
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