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Bang along
Eluding sleep’s sweet grasp
The need to fuck
A matter taken to hand
To the point of insesibility,
Eating to feed a hunger
Born out of
Boredom and the inability
To stay focused,
Prisoner to the whims
Of my mania,
Or willing participant
Since I choose to do it
Again and
Again.

What would it be like
To be normal,
Like them.

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