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Filth in my hair.
Filth in my skin.
I need to shed it. All of it.
I have a ringing in my ears. It makes the room spin and I can barely stand on my legs.
If I fall, I’ll drown face down in the shower water. It’s brown. It smells like compost.
Better said it’s fermenting.
Like a mushy pile of fruits. But it won’t turn to alcohol, no matter how much it intoxicates me.
It’s full of maggots.
I ca ...
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