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=   F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K.   =
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				heat
                                ----

		summer is brutal. i lie awake every
		night, restless, beads of sweat
		rising on my neck, face, and thighs.
		the heat makes it impossible to
		concentrate, and my thoughts flicker
		like a hummingbird jumping from
		flower to flower. it's the heat that
		keeps me awake, the heat that makes
		me think instensely and unendingly
		about everything that comes to the
		surface from the depths of my brain
		and body. it's the heat that makes
		me want to crawl out of my own
		flesh and become someone else.
		
		when the air above the pavement
		visibly quivers and i can taste the
		grit of the city within my dry
		mouth, i feel dirty. it's the same
		feeling i have when i see my ex
		in the darkness of the club, or
		i hear a song that reminds me of
		the past. i want to run away,
		escape, cleanse myself in a deep
		clear pool. it's the heat that
		makes me think these things, these
		incoherent ramblings of a woman
		who loathes all that she is and
		all that she ever was. 

		the heat feels like a pulse. a
		constant beat that reverberates
		through my brain and rocks my
		soul with it's eternal and
		relentless hum. it never lessens,
		never fades. the heat is like
		the razor that i once used to
		tease my flesh, sharp and bright.
		the heat is even a little like
		a love i once had, an immersion
		so complete and strong that i
		thought it would never end.

		there is something good about the
		heat. it goes away, it fades
		gently into crisp air and cool
		colors, kind of like the soft
		shuddering end of an orgasm,
		when the pulse finally ceases.
		i like the cold. death is cold.
		the heat reminds me too harshly
		that i am alive. 

		palpable obscure 

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