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'me.lt/the savage beast'

the smell of oxen-carcasses
intoxicate our causes as we
cover our mouths in shame and
point to the opposite direction,
the exiting door, is beside the point. we
haven't even tried, and already, a clear
consensus has been reached. the outline of
some succeptible form of hopelessness named
'clairty, ' lying in the balance of

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