we can watch you through a fake mirror living in livid, suburban, historically inaccurate prime real estate. forest green LL bean methamphetamines rocket-speed you into this place in which you did not create the public school system, or the university, or the places you buy clothes. You leave yourself moonwalking toward success and healthy relationships. I want to ask, remember your adventures? Your happy hair and kubrick and show-going and girlfriends seem so far away, it's in the old west, where i would picture you. i want to search for it in your face, or your bedroom. it's lost forever, syntax error. and the more i wonder if you remember how beautiful providence looked from on top of the biltmore (with all your friends commenting the same, whatever happened to those college-bound ap indie punks?)
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