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Playing with matches
ends fast like automatic toilets
flushing before you are ready.
So I sit in a purple spinny chair, look at the world
as it whooshes by.
Lines blur, colors fuse, and suddenly,
Nothing matters,
but everything does.

Something was written in braille.
And it was so simple and so unbelievably blatant that as
soon
as the lines blurred that the blind man could
see.





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