3.2.09

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I've got to get some shut eye.

Where's the sense in straining to interpret incoming fantastrophe fractals anyway?
The universe is infinite yadda yadda, the dark matters, yackety shmackety.

If you're going to not exist, you might as well have fun doing it.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

I shine lights into the fog.
Wipe the windscreen.
Find the perfect song.

I'm warm.
I'm dry.
I'm accelerating.
Insects slip unnoticed into the ether.

The road is wide and unguarded.
Nothing creeps but the pretty moon.

Then somethi.