| The Eaten |
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| Written by Ritual Tribal | |
| Thursday, 08 September 2005 | |
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And yet .... as I wait for the breadbins crusts to ripen, my hunger grows
old and fresh like that of a newborn, eager to devour it's mother. As I famine, the speckled visions of catastrophy enthrall my bodys deteriorating soul. I am Man, therefore I am. Silence!
Or could it be the dawning of a new era, where the Holy Gardens of Shame
will reap our sins and cover us in many that is shiny?
Am I not worthy of the air that I breath? I am but a figment of my own imagination .... I am Man . . . . therefore I am ........I will self destruct! ................................................
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