Was hungry for air, so I blasted the fridge open. Of course things got smashed and pain was released, but apparently the layer upon me kept me safe from contamination.
I serve my air spicy, cold and cowardly. I drink it fiercely while wondering why did I spend so much time in that desert carrying only one drop of a blurry dream.
All I have is a post feeling: pity and inutility.
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