a note from my other self or one of them, one of the virtuosi

[from:      the Loss Lieder]

bad or kay in a quay fan mired here retreated inland see !  see:  ridership flub hold any that has mission a choir manage creep toss lag fascinate / it’s how you howl that favors all that was no accident to continue to the point / slake how you manage to an envelope is the way that hospitalized gets cutting / just linger dynamo in slits that whirl, go to fun broke ash in a croft ceiling at one with a deviation in time or tears go missing the target as a slip in a slug & a taglet slides moving /  i’m here in one fictional branch of the time-stream with computers & my steam-driven cutlass / this demon-strates compart-mentalized reasons of breathing in a muddlepace as insanity defenses / a rose for the runners where lifing is a slope thing, gorving or there there nane little squire:  now imagine a creaking century calendared to squeal

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