Do you know what?

It’s like to be called to give an honest account? I wonder? I look around as people edit their own truth down watered. Cloaked over. Deluded. Delusions like tea leaves brewing. A distillate. Impotent. Of sustenance to procreate. Hear me now.

I’ve hooked your asses proper. After being hit by a spider. Now acting my new part yet reversed. I’m untying dear myself. After I trapping to show ya all the way out hoodini style.

No editing allowed.

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