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Merry go Round

  What’s worth saying     That hasn’t already been said  Are words serving their purpose  Or are they repeating the same shit  Garbage pouring from our mouths  Plastic bottles litter the  ground   We’ve pushed these words to their limit  Nothing more can be said  Nothing is original  everything’s made up in your head  Words are just sounds  a vessel of ideas  Searching for their meaning 

The Book of Vapors

(Or, Why I Stopped Watching the News)

Geist

A Digital Epitaph

Becoming Death

  Parts I-II, CHAPTERS I-6