None.
Nothing in my head. A anything made of words, thoughts of nothing, nothing of stimuli.
I put down something out of nothing then.
from scratch.
Feeling strange segmented sentences, cold and cut.
Six phrases, this is the seventh and I wonder what sense.
obviously makes no sense, but nothing should be filled.
Now I have this almost funny, call, of style in prose.
None. If it was an acrostic?
not hear the distant Arrogance. Done on the fly, come on, nice.
Good.
And now?
None.
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