No problems or fears or inhibitions, just dress up nicely, and do not feel.
We are all wax figures with flashing eyes and cold clammy hands, and I am the king. But the castle is crumbling under my feet, with a warm soothing hand pulling me away. The hands are rougher now, by the second, harder and harder, warmer and warmer. Reality and daylight mix together, creating a darkened euphoria of hopelessness. But just wake up. Put on your mask. We will all crumble one day.
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