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Tuesday, 23 February 2010


It clings to you, like something out of a too-old sci-fi movie, and it doesn't want to let go. It makes everything slow and sticky and hard to get out of your system. It needs no reasoning, it just is. That's what they say. But it hates you, such writhing hate that it could hardly breathe if a breath was something it needed. Yet, it needs you, loves you, wants you to stay - wants to stay with you. So it sticks, clings, claws with all its might. Sometimes it manages it.

Until you breathe. Close your eyes and realise that it's all over. It's finished. It's done with.

It changes hands and it's gone, with nothing but a green slip to remember it by.

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