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It was here I hear of the fallen baby blue, and after the martyred mattered. Dis-information in this surreal estate state. Lingered I am told to die away on the old field days of remembrance for the fallen martyred heroes of the, here were they and the fields far away. Suspect timing. Suspect timed; stripped of life support strippers stripped and oops the doctor quipped, an original sin, the official by-product of the original apple red gleaming in the golden dawn of these new sages of those Aquarian parks.
Blood red sky this day starts. This is an ominous beginning for the continuing obvious daze. The waking walking confused. Blindly following yesterday’s footsteps. Out of danger, out of place, out of time in dangerous space, clumsy footsteps on dusty trails leading backward in time to a place long forgotten by generations of neo-choms . The forgotten half-truths and half lies filling bookshelves; two floors overflowing with information overload. There is too much information for the overlord. Overloaded; short circuit shelves fallen in disrespected disrepair. There is too much information with not enough knowledge. Baffled by the volume of available volumes. Retrace; backwards dusty steps back to that great hall of “learn from the past”. Knowledge is the past and present. It is a gift from those who are dead. A solitary journey, the search for what is left; it’s right before your eyes. Hands and feet. Footsteps to those bookcases contains pathways to the previously attempted the prior knowledge. Libraries left to ruin, no-one has been here in decades. Televised distractions distract, Forgotten; old for the new, the reality of players like pirates.
There it is; the shrine to north Florida consumerism. Avenue of America’s mall. A wasteland technology park sits empty since the decades long back and forth, time and again purchase plan of the fired 5000. Mutated crawfish are all that is left; the toxic results of old Kingsbay. A maggot filled memory that rots through metal. .
A temptation to run these opaque boulevards, streets paved with good intentions to the detention camps. It was how many years ago, the former farmer allies liberated the death camp factories? So much wasted youth on wasted soil? Luddite reforms; got to blame someone as the long dead Kaiser spins in his unmade grave.
Old men jerking off on previously soiled editions of Hustler and Swank. Black dots censored white spots. Centerfold glowing decades of semen trail. Fanfare… fucked full of disease…into submission. Crowds wandering empty aisles shopping for nothing, for no one. Crowds going through the motions just as they always have. Forced gore from several years ago. Scenes from Dawn of the Dead replay in old Dixie drive in theatres. Such is live in the Avenues shrine; such is life on the Inter-coastal. Such is life on Atlantic Avenue; such is life after the takeover. Restrictive license, un-read lines like so many lines of code blurred after a while and forgotten after first read.
Old men running now, seen not saw. Running for the under cover of the night watch. Walking ancient dusty hallways looking for a glimpse of a doughnut factory blinking Tits for now open hot how. Ecstasy, for everyone, and everyone for themselves.

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