Today, as I walked into the Martini club with my humble mate, I sat on the bar chair for hours with no distaste, watched people invade the place sober with no dictate, then chronically mutate into their inner sins dis crease.
Some say it's their inner subconscious taking charge, beyond the thorns of the conscious beast. Yet if one masters the art of the conscious and the subconscious sarge, does one truly need the forbidden spirit to liberate the feast... ?
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