I've been trapped in dusty wormhole of my own doing. Deep beneath the seratonins of a semi-confessed life I remain forever indulged in the senses of the frontmost fear. Since this is mine conception, I remain unclear and fuzzy on the details. Fearfully annoying instances of adulteries that drown in my arteries, this is the obfuscated results of a lawful existence.
Pro-life I am not, soft lights that bounce on the dirty floor of a small town hospital. Taken care like a pimple in the face. And a deep mellow voice whisper in my ear: "Υπήρξα βαθυδύτης στο ματσακώνι των παραισθήσεων".
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