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July 2, 2015
Crawling out a curious blackness, a blot of inky void that seems as through space has congealed itself on itself as a map of nowhere doing nothing for no reason but doing nothing, exists, as it is clarified when the void opens its mouth, like a hungry shark upon bleeding prey and burrows through the inedible murk where we stand like startled prairie dogs in a tornado not expecting the daunting dull, the wet heaviness that falls upon consciousness like a ten ton weight on a mouse, obliterating form for a mass of disconnected molecules, such as it is, puzzles.