Stamford Train Station

Creased stares turned flat. These people want my soul! I am deleting my heart. Numbing my fingers with subtle calculated thoughts that stream in and out. These surmounting reasons shake at my psyche. A violence. I conceive the only way I know. Oh! Im a maze. Aflame with periodical stammering. My skull vacuuming the apparently brackish coating off of the astral plane. Off kilter consciousness. I take it. You tell me the things that hurt the most. My smile is lying too.


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