It is important for this section to stand out because it encourages the reader not to go and fuck with our minds as they do when I thought we were all going to, then there was extricably the reason why we thought everyone was going to die. There was a sweet whisper at the depths of the ocean, stop fucking around with me, I swear you’re just confusing the slight tingling matter within the chimpanzees.
There was a free write and they were all going to sleep at the slippery slopes of the mountain, which mountain they asked h she didn’t know because there were too many ideas going on and on in her head stop going to the place where we don’t want you to go and she stopped thinking so that they could all let her think instead why don’t we want you to make sense. I don’t know why would we ever want anyone to make sense there are too many awys out in this world why can’t I ever think think think thinkthink thitnktnktnknknknknknknknknknknknknknknknknknknknknk.
No more rules to the writing of the real poets if it comes from the scraping utter back part of my brain, it must be quality shit to read. Or would it be? Who the hell knows any of this anymore.
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