by Glenn Fairman 7/14/16
There comes a time when your effeminate memorials of balloons and votive candles serve only to crystallize in the minds of villains your acquiescence to exist as prey. When the stench of lumbering suicide crowds the heavens along with the bleating of your sheep-like sorrows, perhaps you will awaken from your morphine sleep; learning again the wisdom of cause and effect, and be healed.
Glenn Fairman writes from Highland, Ca.
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