BEGIN:
Original Rants
gray and blurred like not quite dry eyes dissimilar to perfect yet so close you can smell it -- crisp five dollar bills, its crinkle in greedy palms before being whisked away in a wet spring gust "good enough" insincere sound while giggling whispers scorn your sincere efforts pang drooling tongues like overripe forgotten fruit mushy and dull yet you grab all you can see you need it; you're an addict ears thumping, fingers stretching towards...
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