Trip Wires never work the way you want ‘em to. Them walking feet walk on, stepping on, haul over you, tree legs and fog horn gears, wrenching up to wrench you
Wrench you limbs.
Nice talking with you. You whisperer, you dissenter disintegrator
Taste the underside
The subconscious arbiter
I’ll deal you even,
crush-crush
crush-crush
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