Soul's Hand

Being a snippet from bits of sharded truth I will later collectivize so as to have tricked self into producing a sort of “novel”

I Remember Every Fucking Song I Know.

They are like hip rainbows that use primary colours to insist I keep walking straight, keep the faith alive, and keep my freedom’s mute anthem on bust despite nobody there to encircle you they keep you alert to it all anyway. Because you never know. Isn’t that how the song goes? Or is that some comic on the periphery jabbing at my memory trying to sink me when I barely just saw sea, see?

Every night I dream I am more and more trapped in Nuketown, this level we played to death in Black Ops, before I sold the system and just determined to stare at it until I filled it, this screen, with the pitter-patter oncoming of…

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