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###£@*:~,, when i was in eight grade i decided i ,,~:*@£###
####£@*:~, was dead. my spirit had left my body, ,~:*@£####
###£@*:~,, never to return. ,,~:*@£###
##£@*:~,,, ,,,~:*@£##
#£@*:~,,,, i remember sitting in my parents car on ,,,,~:*@£#
##£@*:~,,, a cloudy, watery day, getting a ride ,,,~:*@£##
###£@*:~,, somewhere. it felt like i had solved ,,~:*@£###
####£@*:~, some great puzzle. i've solved no ,~:*@£####
###£@*:~,, puzzles since then. ,,~:*@£###
##£@*:~,,, ,,,~:*@£##
#£@*:~,,,, instead, i've been mindlessly piloting ,,,,~:*@£#
##£@*:~,,, this body around. i still give it life, ,,,~:*@£##
###£@*:~,, somehow. like a golem, and i try not to ,,~:*@£###
####£@*:~, care too much, but i do. it's a ,~:*@£####
###£@*:~,, contaminated golem, this one. purity ,,~:*@£###
##£@*:~,,, clouded by my echo. afterglow of my ,,,~:*@£##
#£@*:~,,,, spirit. ,,,,~:*@£#
##£@*:~,,, ,,,~:*@£##
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###£@*:~,, ,,~:*@£###
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