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. you're probably right to the things I cant admit so whatever I thought or felt tossed away simply, we agreed to skate in whatever we dont want to say, try again, junctures not unlike me in the closet in 1951 amidst the shoes, leather & dark till I was found and pulled out. . pot is burned. my fault & that the smell remains to remind me of all I did & did not reveal in 40 years to ask forgiveness its really just a complete sense of isolation & not in much control, so therefore - I think of driving into the future: everything rage but for the minuscule community Ð instants of us going against the global manufactured to raise the collective chant: fuck it |