Fumes

I am violence, the numbest fringe of psychotic oversentience. Randomly preaching the end of time to the inexperienced intervention of melting disparities. Nothing wavers through my soul as it ignites these tubular fumes of arsenic vengeance.

Oh lord, please forgive me. Forsake how I had faith in you once. Bring me patience so I can sweep a constant indeterminacy through my vocal cords, for you are a mere mirage in this filament of metafiction. The insincere extinction of secular formulations.

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