I had to get it out, and the bile burned as it crept up. Each image more crass than the next.

I shamed myself in revelling in this. This is a joke, the kind where you laugh hurtfully.

The shallow warmth of a mud-bottomed puddle. Repelling, inviting. Unclean, with a salty taste of the primordial brew. Which might be the thing we have left in common.

Celebrating the old, the new destruction.

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