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Deer Parts and Solids (Aimless Towards)

Parenthetical Rejoinders
It's here that we've constructed what warmth we will. We read out loud for the world to like this. There are clots of cream tumbling into the folded egg that will be tempered with a pinch of salt. Who knows from regret so simple and now so cold.  Who knows to set up their own connection, to follow the Service Provider’s (SP) instructions.
Password: douchebag
SID: dogmatic96
Who would print this document and then store it in a heavy box safe for future reference, savor it like a moment that's soaked sweetly in grass and has the subtle opus of true violet.
Harmony harmony how? It's the state of the row all up and down, That's what he says to all of the kids in the close seats. They lean in like a bevy of hats on short poles. It's not hat season he tells them. The way of it isn't south through Rocky Mt and on to GloryHollow. It's north kiddo's, it's north along the shabby crack of the Platz, up to the Manner's mirror even. 
Here we are as anarchists. Unrepresented and beautiful, we are the people. To wish for the security of a government of any government is to step back and to pray that its blessings and the wishes of all of our fishes have evolved like bullets from butterflies. We are the people divided by our nods. Our resources our joy be parsed as a grid, Now the writing on the page trails off becoming an illegible scrawl, a witless and simple line of fancy.
Violence is no lark. Violence is the key to the state's palace, Owen yells at the boys. His stooped presence is like a cracked stone that sits no more. It's the key of its own creation, all snake eating its own tail style. Violence doesn't just beget violence as such things go so often. No no, the state is soon begot from violence. This state, that state, any state at all states, BAM. Then sweep and the scope of our conceit is dimuned becoming shabby and pale, He explains. The state defines the policy that reconciles our ability to make and share, to predict and to organize.
Bower, bowl, a ball of mice such fragile as things, to tweet they all but break, He quotes, turning away from the raised chairs, the kids, and the kids hats. Pommelgranite, that's right, not the fruit of this, Owen spells pommelgranite like it sounds. His white chalk squeals and it cries. When he's finished his work of underlining then he turns 'round again, Look at this, it's a thoughtful rebuke of the misanthropes whose petty deeds have intentionally set about dismantling our system of public betterment. Here's to those that have worked to redirect its financing into partnerships with companies that have no vested interests in the success of this complex system of neighborhoods and the people that rely on such things and a measure of hope.


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