Colin

Ingrained within him, a constant blur. There are too many gaps where his fingers plugs greedily- bottom to top, top to bottom, bottom and top but they spill uncompromisingly. What he tries to contain within just a day slips by him like a weightless shadow in a lightless night. His movements precise, his heart asunder: it is the wanting of needing that drove him to the periphery of understanding himself and everything else. He is nowhere, he is unrelenting. He is more than the sum of my meager description of a single man that you fatally made.

 

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