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August 28, 2015
It is going, unlike not going, but true to its function, going deeper to the place of reckoning where ideas are smelted; from the core bit that has no dimension comes the furious focus without parallel, sorted by time of death, all bodies are accounted for when it no longer mattered that anything was counted, just buried, forgotten, made to seem like a bad dream, a knick in the mind cutting off its face for the sheer heck of it, letting the world see that cannot see its reality, that, for all for its worth, it goes as a ghost.