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kill your icons by timothy dead weight hung from rods ov shit and filth. as her skin became undone. seamless and vacant. eyes fixed. on the unnatural. the walls moved, inner to outer. perimeter mixed with cum and death. falling over eachother. converging to the center. then dissipating. she thought she had awoken from her reality. dreams ov love. world ov hate. but none are so fortunate. instea the same filth taints. she drinks the dirty water. suck. swallow. spit. over. and. over. is that a window? eye socket to the world. no it is not a window young margaret. it is not the eye. its the door. locked and forgotten. who am i? the words whispered falsely. (is this my mind? whose thoughts are these?) layer. (i have removed my skin) there is no love. (we do not care). this is me. the pure body is pornography. margaret. can i have my rose colored glasses? the naked eye is blind. have i another second? you were dead at birth. (stillborn?) yes. i was stillborn. i still await on the platform. (none ov this has existed, fabrication ov the void.) return to your skinsuit, stop the deception. but i am pure. you are filthy. sin? the deadweight fell, from its home ov shit and filth. its a 2 way mirror margaret they (they?) look in (out?) no you look upon your void (ov shit and filth?) all eyes are on you (including my own?) you cannot see, if you do not see yourself. (am i pure?) you are filthy. sin? is it the eyesocket? no margaret, the mirror is always the door, locked and forgotten. (end?)
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