well at this stage im going to say count me in... that is if i can find my creative part of brain which seems to be dead at this current time
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There's no aphrodisiac like loneliness, truth, beauty and a picture of you.
Words are flying out like endless rain into a paper cup
They slither while they pass
They slip away across the universe
Pools of sorrow waves of
Joy are drifting thorough my open mind