,,,,,,.~^% %^~.,,,,,,
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,,,,,,.~^% Now, Usually I Feel Good (Maybe?), But %^~.,,,,,,
,,,,,.~^%# This Time Of Confusion Also Leads To #%^~.,,,,,
,,,,.~^%#¶ All Analyzes Ending In "Useless" - I ¶#%^~.,,,,
,,,.~^%#¶# Was Being Bothered By Something In A #¶#%^~.,,,
,,.~^%#¶## Song Or Movie Or Book, So I Think, How ##¶#%^~.,,
,.~^%#¶### Would I Have Done It, What Is The ###¶#%^~.,
,,.~^%#¶## Purpose Of This Process, What Does It ##¶#%^~.,,
,,,.~^%#¶# Consist Of...? And Through The Process #¶#%^~.,,,
,,,,.~^%#¶ More And More Pieces Falls Off Until ¶#%^~.,,,,
,,,,,.~^%# I'M Standing There With Nothing. #%^~.,,,,,
,,,,,,.~^% %^~.,,,,,,
,,,,,,,.~^ Reductionist Hell - ^~.,,,,,,,
,,,,,,,,.~ I Wan'T A Bottom Floor, A Concept ~.,,,,,,,,
,,,,,,,,,. Bedrock, But The Deeper I Go The More .,,,,,,,,,
,,,,,,,,.~ Abstract They Are, The Things, Until ~.,,,,,,,,
,,,,,,,.~^ They Cease To Be Things At All ^~.,,,,,,,
,,,,,,.~^% %^~.,,,,,,
,,,,,.~^%# Are We Just Stacked Triangles? There Is #%^~.,,,,,
,,,,.~^%#¶ Nothing I Can Do With Triangles. They ¶#%^~.,,,,
,,,.~^%#¶# Can Not Shelter Me In Any Meaningful #¶#%^~.,,,
,,.~^%#¶## Sense. ##¶#%^~.,,
,.~^%#¶### ###¶#%^~.,
,,.~^%#¶## And When I Can'T Even Anchor Myself, ##¶#%^~.,,
,,,.~^%#¶# When I Am Nothing But The Question, It #¶#%^~.,,,
,,,,.~^%#¶ Feels Like It Can All Slip Through My ¶#%^~.,,,,
,,,,,.~^%# Fingers... "Whoops", And Nothing Ever #%^~.,,,,,
,,,,,,.~^% Was After That. %^~.,,,,,,
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