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March 6, 2013
The call of I screes its voluminous breach of conduct as its call of war on that which mocks the I as the pinnacle of peace of Not I, where no conflict is necessary, only assenting, where the diabolical construction assumes its rise under eyes, under flesh, under the beat of convenient assumptions, where all that exists in the functioning reality fades gradually past any awareness, where all recedes from the naked mind being duped by the most clever lies and becomes the fashionable wear of popular prison systems, where all, as marked, bear the vivid identity of Not I