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Corey Hudson

Does your chain hang low? Does it wobble to and fro? Do it shine in the light? Is it platinum is it gold? Does your chain hang low?

—

Or, rather, is it solid steel? Heavy as hell, metal, iron and real? Your visions are escapades of the present’s sight. And their methods are reshaping all your means and might. A tangenting badass, herculian strength, this too may pass, but not without length.

 
 
 

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