The horror of not getting your hand out of the earth after frentic hours of clawing through the muddy vestige. The horror of being an oar-less sailor of an endless sea. The horror of decaying in the womb. The horror of being swallowed the smoke rings of your own  fortituos fabrication of fermented sloth.The horror.
The horror of putrid white desire pumping hard against your uncontrolled breach of somnolent sense. The horror of striking shamelessly up a wall of posteriority, and stay hung up there like a intoxicated stoop of destiny. The horror of joy. The horror of unblemished parade of insensate jubilation. The horror.

The horror of company. The horror of being left alone. The horror of of laughter. The horror of tears. The horror of mindless speeches. The horror of silence. The horror of you. The horror of me. The horror of want. The horror of need. The horror of us.

Spare! Spare me!

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