it was a most ordinary thing. a mundane experience very slick and cool. it was not an explosion of desire. just a casual maybe. a slow subtle and imperceptible movement. yet just enough when at the edge to move something over. that something so light and floating like a gossamer thread through the fog is my life. that is what malice is. needless destruction that makes movements that don’t seem evil. an encouragement to self destruct is all that you’re told. and if you are not paying close attention you will think it was your thought that came out of hiding in a dark cave like the smell of decomposition leaving a sewer.

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