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  Pleading the Fifth, Needing a Gallon  
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This is the first time I've felt hope all day. I've felt madness, progress, determination but not hope until right now.

I put my hand on the spines of CD cases on my shelf and felt the power, the time and energy spent by strangers just to occupy someone else's time and energy.

Ears. Heart. Mind often, and tinglers, sexual and clean, fingers on strings and fists on skins and violent in the air.

My hope is not only in the realization that "I've made one of these" but that, someday, soon, I will make one that is all my very own. Mine and mine alone. Then I'll make another.

And another.

And another.

And another.

And another.

And another.

And another.

And you can have it all.
All Things are.

I'm fucking serious though, I will rock every single last one of you sons of bitches until you scream my name. Even if it's to stop.

I hope you'll like it.

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