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Papoose Fiction: Foreshadowing

I know soon I'll suddenly be 48 and finally start looking like an old man with cigarette stains on my lips, wringles crying down my cheek to latch on under my jaw in parallel lines, one after the other.

My earlobes will finally have a thick fuzz along the bottom of my earlobe that glistens under moonlight to remind the lady with me the sparkle she sees is withered skin and hair spots no longer collectively complementing my charisma, pooling atop as is swimming around the free public pool offered by the nearest town with sufficient over taxing of the median to cover and compensate for any losses incurred by sharing services for free, as if that town's citizenry was the wealthier older brother among the communal collection of neighboring cities and the rest of the villages surrounding each metropolis kingdom; each ruled by the blinding injustice of the nearest billion heirs to occupy that land, administering justice to ensure longevity isn't simple fantasy.

The harsh reality is criminal with contempt so the risks of rebellion are remote when not rejected before budding into any flower defenses, a useless gimmick incapable of inciting change as his comrades prematurely perish as pesticides penetrate every pore of their being to the core from death eating.

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