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April 3, 2014
Bound to something you cannot name, that which is called awareness fingers palpable shackles on wits with a soul crammed of mouths screaming under meticulous sutures executed on a body extended beyond its rhythms for matching the collective symphony, hard breath streaming from pores for the blood flowing in disguise, keeping the house of self wrapped in fashionable suits of armor, keeping it safe in a harbor sealed off from the open sea; we stay by the ports craning our necks for a view of the untouched beach, all the while unaware of the movie being played on the screen.