The difference between me and you... it's something they all talk about. It's something their minds never leave, but in a perverse way that's totally different from me. Your designs can rush me with heat, but in a different way, because my mind is more toned to peace, rather than to pure excitement, because I know how to live rather than to just burn out and become empty. Lots and lots of you are trash, and so I keep at a safe distance, where I can watch and think carefully.
Still... the voice, the design, the instincts, the features, the eyes, the... everything. It trails my mind. It brightens my eyes... and yet, they never cease to disappoint or annoy or disgust, but it always leaves room for a search, for something to obtain. On my mind, but also not... somewhere where thoughts can go to be tucked away without a sound, but not in any way that matches their thoughts. Their filth is a far cry from me. But still... the features, and the everything else...
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