Apologetic and litanical sharpness brightens, Ready to stab the sword of spirit into the sap-sad-apathet. My arm vibrates, shaking ,with the opportunity. Such a blessing, strengthened so, my blood roughly flows. The conscious setting of the mind weaponizes, not a fallow, blowing, wind. The day is a choice to be a light or a non person; so, avoid the default setting—of the anti-sacred. Dead who worship the wickedness of the skeleton, of the world's fraudulent spirits and guile. All slip into darkness. The saint who with anger and righteousness will reveal: that this fool's errand fails. What will the cut core reveal?
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