" strike, the plate is hot "

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we gather 'round, pool resources, and make our ways plural, towards destinations unknown, know, and altogether fantastical.

the night is young. my life is youthful. wavelengths of energy emit from all things, and the streets murmur and vibrate with that flavor of ceaseless tremors, that although we are not at all sure of what will happen, everything has shifted, and we will never be the same ever again.

my crew, my people, my hearts, my eyes. my soul soars, the frequency peaks, and the transmission is received.

loud and clear i see through the headlights; the night looms and is electric.

tonight's homework:

dance dance dance, laugh laugh laugh, shower brush sleep to dream.

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