this

the headaches of the world unite in an untidy mess of transparent personalities.

Dirty festering troubles linger in smoking rooms filled with character assassins.

Fermenting ideas come to the surface and muster up tides of horrible memories.

Stark winds blow and call out “don’t leave the onions on”.

All this, this thisness, it stinks, it putrifies.  Its really quite wonderful.  I’m happy to be here.

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