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April 6, 2003
as i purge myself of the beginning of april i begin to slowly drown in its middle ages. the spring sting of familiarity is a stifling existence and i beckon to the greater destinies beyond to remove my unseen locks and chains and allow me to break free from this bordello of boredom. the television, only days ago my closest allie has become a festering wound in my daily routine, the books i enjoyed with sweet imagination now rot in garbage piles across my floor. the shower gets colder as the mirror fogs and i can hardly wait until bedtime