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December 02, 2005

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In my dream they feast on the meat of fleshy men whose eyes move in a preconditioned path over the contours of bone and flesh, compulsively repeating the sweeping visual hypnosis analysis, sweating, straining against emotional victimhood while striving to be physically consumed, reappropriated, unborn. This is how the Wedgebeasts still their prey, until the men see not the head of the beast - and then it is too late, man nipples are sharply twisted between beek, strips of skin come loose, sparse patches of hair are lost to the devouring appetite of deformity.

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