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August 16, 2015
It slips quietly inside, mending gnaw by alterations of a quick sensibility without pause, without sting, without viable sensations driven into head by a rude intrusion. The bead of its mind without mind construes its algorithmic function, disabling paradigm structures of the organ matrix, simple infection of a gargantuan nature, then darkness, as proud as nuclear winter, descends the flesh to the composition, delicate and incisive, fierce and gentle as an the Spider Woman's Kiss, so it goes, as going rips away all manner of repose, that the body must sacrifice itself for redemption on a new kind of cross.