My subconscious draws messes to me because they’re where “I”, no, no, no, “it”, feels most comfortable. Life was always a mess. What becomes of life when there is no mess? Nothing left to clean. Really? Nothing? The stillness—terrifying. The possibilities—terrifying. What would I do without you? My dear mess. Messiness. Messy. Messy. Messy. Mess.
Oh.
The …
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