September 21, 2009

I have been characterizing the difference between failure and repeat. it becomes nothing more than it can ever be. The rewritten words grow old as the heart has become stale. There is no wonder in this blank room anymore. There is nothing more than a musty cell. I will take it, while i decide to sell my soul. Naturally, it is only here i can reside while i tempt the self with such heartless ambition.

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