vi.

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11. may the fucking earthworms sing folk songs dripped in throbbing mercury about how hungry they are how this dirt mocks them how the earth has just been swept up from under their feet how they're coughing on martian soil and nothing tastes like anything anymore that their bellies are turning pale intestines thinning life's relative it's shrinking and who gives a damn anyway may the collective be numbed our time is all numbered anyway

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