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I

ITERATION TWO Was Fun

Was sure it is the End; Am Cure it was the beginning. I was Putting this number: Butt'll it'll doubts About what's About Exactly is Am. Ea Cis Am. But a little round-a-bout waters pouts Exacting A Cham. Ha has his Hearse, black hue, more black humor, ash Ashley hahahashish. A friendof-friendhouse is a good real place, drop by often. Offended offhand after end of a friend dropped buy (by Ingram) in Gram numberror of 10. I had met a drone, my Me photon. I'd dealt... Whitemelt Moat in: The Nose or Capital. With it: Music Man Said he knew a real good place, the weeping Myph/Myth of Man sawforth, for I knew a real good price; sad sinew when is ds. The Look Reel: afterreal we reeled in fishing fish in ginpools. That's the action where the place happened: from A to A a counity of counties. Where they question genepools. My will Waning then, but now ever curiously I find, now is the moment I remember what I watch with my film, the present pleasantries collected (read: MindMovie @echo as gravure. Exposure: following this, the maimed minds move. E@ marks the path to Xenon Way, kingstakes that mark the path to the NonWaking States. I was USA in the time of day, NWS, in my sleep, distress. In MORPH FO, ro-y-ad of foday or of from Ni: Day of the Mind~Winding Dreamplace, poor pore place, for a while made the house a home, but Was! And therein: lying was the problem. Sad, sad, cords hung from our faces when we knew we had no choice. New: we had no choice. We found it out. Then they found IT out. Because we told them the truth.) detec: El, lock< reeds collective re edits, we had no choice. Eggs have no choice, we lied about wanting to lie we acted; Eggs acting-- a Sham! Ac Eis Am. Sure, it was the end, but there Was Fun, and the Fun Was Was! But therein laying:

II II

440 // 523.251 // 329.628 * *** ***** I / m3 / P5

II II

Was the Problem lead an uncooperative, troubled life down The. Was always Was and always Was Was. Was Fun? I don't know, and maybe I. All I knew: Was Is. Lie like loonycoke Freud, pull back alie after, alid aligned, lie after lie and find the question you were originally faking the answer to: Should 'I' or shouldn't 'I' soil my pants? But no, now I know: --spent along a long amount of tic-tac-time tying my 'I', enthralways typing the book like what ishear, greatifying Ur-ges station. I tried to make sense (of/but) 'What' was on my mind. Theretheretherethere, don't mind mining language ore, only I could get golden from when 'I'-- Was by the Author. 'I' ties! Was poofed back; now I poo food back. Hahaha! Shhhhhishhhhhhhhhhh! I was being quieted. Oh no, I had no choice. 7o5

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