smoke billowed from the furnace chimneys smouldering in the clasp of my hand. it’s no real improvement, but i’d rather it was burning an hole in my fingertips than another hole in my pocket. i think i’m lucky i haven’t started losing things already the way it is now, burning another hole in that luck it was never goin to last forever
people grow back, wealth doesn’t really. that’s why you can sell an entire back catalogue of all your creative works to big company, but once those billions and billions run out, they’re gone
if i was a billionaire, i’d put on one hell of a show. encrypted mass lattice quantum beating extroadinaire … and i’d have my own fuckin certificate authority your publicity could never squash out of existence. although if i fuck with the other rich people they will find a way to get me – and they all get ya sooner or later – i’m not blinded by science, i can see into the distance. you wouldn’t be concentrating on me in all my persistence, i will show you the path of the least resistance. come with me and let’s do somethin real, and let the fois gras groupies fuck reight off in all contrivance
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