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The Unaliving
That is who I am
in crimson mud
poor disposable Michael
forever-elu
sive polar island
and up the gentle mountains
one more thing
that can never have a name
And at the top- they found us
The others of us were cast
before sending him to me
through our spiraling laughter
And they saw us
She had given him a map
In all of our glory
He did not go mad
If you scream loud enough
