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for Mike Spry bless me, lucky lager, for i have failed at social media privatization in an age of craft-brewed social classes, in the forced absence of an evil twin named caz i am a sad, sappy, smelly person, a spliff-roller and a leo, marooned in a bowel-wrenching paradox brimming with misplaced revenge and silt i consider my dirty toenails unshaken by their cadaver hue conclude that lighting and color are co-dependent and therefore not to be trusted. i wonder, when people are sad, we really just miss the friends we've moved away from they are doing things over there (or maybe nothing) but they're over there, and then which seems better than here, and now i try to describe the tone of the sky at 7:19 but all I can come up with is 2D. i figure by 8 if I haven't slept yet why not be up early? i have decided to learn to play chess by myself, maybe squash, as well and that sinister game with hands and a knife. yesterday, when i found myself hacked (again) although just bits and bytes, i felt violated today i remember the many wiry pubic hairs i left on your razor and smile in ten years this will be a great story to tell the grandkids we'll never have. the disco-ball hanging unassuming from the ceiling and i this morning, will discuss subtlety and how we are both underrated, underappreciated, and overpaid. we will casually reflect on synesthesia, tongue webs, the best way to hit someone with a bunch of quarters, the merits of being a street rat over domestication, the desensitization of our generations to stagnation, the serenity that comes only after the bottle i threw finally breaks; how we can glimpse ourselves, if only for a sip of beer, in the guitar solo in heartbreaker, (isolated and constrained) the synthesizer in dancing in the dark (strange, crooked melody underlying angst, who, when caught lonely, betrays uncertainty) the backup vocals in all the things she said (my refrain goes "please stop") the woo woos at the end of i'm on fire (late and sufficient) the violin bow in venus in furs (confused between martele and legato) kissing timberlands in the dark and why i shake in the forced absence of someone named caz