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David Wolach

I choked your library while they slept, how often do the stairs refuse entry. I choked your library and heard no please more, heard nothing. Not a single droplet fell on proverbial cheek. Whatever dreams that later would be analyzed in place of thinking, they kept for now.


I invented your inventing me by trial and error. I am the Alexandrian thug. I let them use me for the price of Tokyo. When you were younger I appeared as absolute white, a white that burns, a white that caused you to say the new machine is on the verge of failure, we will be blind and happy. I am the white that scrapes pure from your other asshole, an urge to the scraping.

David Wolach

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