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Look around you, what do you see?
A waste of a world.

How wasted?
Dreams and bodies crushed, blank, brutal minds, every woman I love raped or abused, anger. Hatred, greed, war, poison.

What coarse speech is this?
It is I will not fucking serve.

Oh give me a break. Your adolescent phase has set a little late, hasn’t it?
Nothing is late.

Well, give more. What do you see? Take inventory of your world.
All of my friends have been consumed—perhaps I put it ill.

You put it. Continue.
I have too many friends and too little time and too much thought I give to others. All of them will die without a word.

And you? What does your high attitude change?
Nothing. Everything. I see to the end of time, the futility of words, all endeavors and ambition, poetry and canons of taste.

Then why do as you do? Why not recede? Why not kill yourself?
Because I love to write. It is even sweeter than music to me.

Is it necessary? Does it change anything?
No.

But it makes you happy?
Yes.

Life was simple all along?
Life was simple all along.

Fool. How long have you felt this way?
Time immemorial.

Did you ever doubt yourself? Were you unaware of the destiny which you finally accept?
Crushed by depression and lost my way for a few years, but never doubt. I always knew.

Whence you speak?
Outside of time, all this flesh a means for stars and blackholes, mycelia.

Are you sure?
What will change if I am wrong?

Won’t you go back?
How can I? I would sooner burst into flame.

Unfettered freedom and neverending life?
Forever and ever and ever. I will never die.

Continuum of flesh, from earliest beginning to final end, without rupture or break?
Me.

The points whittle down to facts?
All to love. She showed me.

Night Bullstrode?
Form of forms. Ammonite, form of forms. You own both. Shells. Your life fossilizes. Do. Awake. Awake. Awake. Awake. Awake.

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