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there is something primal in a scream
as i lay awake at night in my cold and white walled dorm room, a tension holds taught in my chest.
there is a heart there, a soul. there is a spirit which longs for more then cinderblock.
in the springtime, it will have all melted with the massachusetts frost.
i walk through winter wood
and allow the spirits of all of have came before me to take hold.
our screams will rock treetops
til the saints of earrach pull us home
02/19/2023