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Obsessing over limits continually redefined; my fingers snared in your veins within the composition’s lavish lines. These axioms abandoned, to favor continuous narrative. You bite through your lips to keep a smile, a function I will never understand. What I wouldn’t give to be in my most stable state. What I wouldn’t give. The entire existence an unabridged apology, reaching out to touch, betrayed by your skin. This process composed in a drastic black and white. I’m flooding with retrograde. Call into question the effect of loneliness, then vomit the subconscious of a victimless crime. My teeth are sharp and crooked. You reduce me to this, then smile the subjective. In defense of defense mechanisms. Love me, then treat me the way you have. Tire of our homeostasis. Long for your home wrecker. My teeth are sharp and crooked. I’m ready to start eating again.

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from A Composition Of Functions, released October 31, 2014

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