Dense, speckled sponge unmoving,
The voices, they push you.
The boundaries have melted away now; they no longer exist.
Six months of pain, an apparition. I was strict.
Could it really have been worse?
The cessation of omnipotence in the most basic endeavors.
Disquietude. It's single.
But it was sprinkled with cinnamon,
How do you refuse cinnamon?
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