i think i'm really through with meeting great people. i mean, i am meeting them, and i am wishing i was not. great people carry colours, and those get stuck all around me, and when they leave, i'm emptied once more. but they just don't take their colours back, they strip away my paint. and right now, i'm giving them too much, always too much. they'll reduce me to a couple of pickets. and i can't keep them away, just pickets.
i don't want to accept this silent world. and i don't want to write my noise. i want the whole damn fucking harmony.
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