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November 12, 2020
Climb the party rungs to the silver saliva bar, put your fat lips on the greasy edge of the owner's pride, come to know how deep your climate changes when you take it full on and the fat lady won't sing. She hasn't got a voice box. She plays with a tiny, silver music box in the closet of the bear's own castle full of ornate mud statues. They want us to come and stare. That's what they want. We're all asked the same thing. The state of going down inside fully will be revealed when the union finally blooms.