the neural pathways i etched,
plotting course to a proverbial gun-cabinet,
haunt me in this labyrinth.
some ideation in the fantasy
tastes too keenly of my premature sour superfluous sucker.
too easy, too early, of an out.
i say the same for you.
enjoy the there-after from the time here-before.
i will go eventually, but i won't,
i can't,
**** in my suicidal tendencies.
the final bastion of pride that i will never allow to cease;
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