Open these bandage walls. See what's left of the scar the
rib left. An insect activity of a healing process down
to a nightcrawler etching. After you died in thought I
was sickened to see you in body, its new smell irrelevant
due to the applicant within. A clone according to the
stitches. Voodoo motivated by spite rather than spirit.
I’m an illusionist in a similar craft. I take one last pull
before I feel the hairs fall out. Now I only speak in the
brail from someone else's mouth.

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