Those times we kissedsuch scars we hopedwould fade beforeour lives had to departtowards inevitability. Death doesn’t answeranything but its own,achieving the same resulton a constant stream. A perpetual tollthat turns futuresonto the brazenimpact of sequence. It all happensfor the reasonwe want to deny. Our spiritsare kept in a bottle,ready to spill. What gooddoes running do,when…

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