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    I don’t know anything. A top of a thing set face down on a sink hole, a road, a major vein through a gigantic city falls into the earth, a drop of 40 or 50 feet or 60 feet an abyss. It is a slim vein stretched between a heart and a lung, a liver and a lung, the lung the fleshy balloon of the gut. The gut a chamber or a war room possessed by pulsation, thick immaculate blood trembling through an abstract atlas, a nebulous network of stench and living rot.

    I’ve been having these nightmares for the past few weeks. A ****** approaches me at the ****** and ****** me before I can say anything. I think that and then I realize that I cannot speak anyway, and I don’t have a mouth and I look into the mirror and notice that my eyes are disappearing, and then I can’t see. I am a train, I have become a high-speed train and I am crossing a tundra. I freeze up and then I wake up.

    There is a hidden tunnel in the woods. But it is not safe or useful, it is just for hiding predators to wait for you.

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