The series of displacements and endings have rendered me implacable, unable to comprehend consistency or continuity, servile only to fear and apprehension.
Its placement of myself in it as only a product to consume or produce its poultry offerings, drunk in stupor with hope. Rent of consciousness that anything more may come from existence bar the animal and left only with question,. No answer forthcoming except in death or in hope, if hope can be had against such odds.
As if Maya herself had decreed the rights of the soul in possession of a body were of little choice but to join the feast of personal destruction, to her great satisfaction.
Our friend and all those who spoke and yet, submitted to the hopelessness rendered by her strained devouring demands.
Sleep now and forever scold your loss of peace
Speak now or forever hold your peace
of mind if any left after all that will be done.
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