I can’t bring myself to trust the wide gormless heads of simpletons.

Is that so?

It is actually.

And why is that?

Because they remind me. Perhaps they remind me of you, as it was all made in your likeness or was that your lightness or was it just that I wasn’t wearing enough clothes at the time and was cold and made a snap judgement based on that temporal inclemency, the body informed the mind as it were, and sure was it just the fear in me radiating out like black spiders seething from a glistening gossamer in the rain, or was it even that at all and maybe I do really like them because they remind me of my true self, the one I had divested, or attempted to divest myself of and all of the impure perversions shall release from me in spades coming to rest on the ocean in a blanket of grey, incessant mists, toxic like wild potions.

Good man.

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