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In January i knew, that feeling of doubt, i saw the catastrophe hit the world, one bat just like that, the world went into mode maniac. A frenzy a blow, god only knows, whats to become or unfold.
I had been in confinement for over a month, i thought i d be done next by DNA for a crime i did nt commit, or called up for body fluid s found in synch . My nurses laughed at me such an imagination, we think. It weren't wrong the thought in my head, the body fluid was mucus and coughing instead.
I had missed christmas really, but it came again in halloween format, shopaholics hit, the shelves where emptied the coins chinked, the plastic cards made a bee line oh heck , no money as well.
I find myself in confinement once again, and thought i know, i ll join a site, and help it might. It was like a confession box with no priest, i would get flashes of illness, death and deceased , those who where terminal, those with parts missing, and eased into haste, those taken to hospital. Those on pills, some with a vengeance, those who did hide on pages and some don t like the systems stages.
Its very cold in this confession box of lit electricity with pictures and images, almost an authenticity.Its eat your heart out thriller, dance to this, add on s called tumor s get that without makeup.
An icon a hero, a salvation, a Samaritan. Could be a bible of how to be right and how to be wrong. And the answer is the same," where here for you",like a silent movie, subtitled in slow motion.
I thought you are here, do i say my prayer s, it does nt seem right to an electrically transmitted device. But i checked each day, and had nothing to confess, i m yin i m yan, in a world unbalanced.
Anyway the late christmas as times now for shopaholics and paths with arrows i m told. Boris has nt hit the deck he s still captain, a ship to run and no neglecting.And he ll get that health minister to double check whats up on deck.
Love to you all, don t come back now do ya here!
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