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Happy Disease You

no more searching, what is found is found, what is said is said

and what is set is set, somehow, someway, shall all fall into place

to never again be seen, somewhere deep into the black nothing

the abyss of all of time, to find thyself invigorated enough to void

potential seconds of onlooking suspension, kept ever at the touch

another passing moment, another picture, another video, another

connection, and although, time consumes me at every further turn

at all costs, avoiding what it is that that is it what, a void, and although

the connection feels like everything that is missing from my life, that

is, everything i miss about having friends, its a subtle reluctance, it

is a problematic escape and a weaponized nuisance and addiction to

a responsive conversation that I am more than happy not to be, reality

is never less than a dream when your dreams are in every way reminding

to thee, the nightmare existences, the hapless romantics of perceived

perspective, perspective of the perception of a definite introspection

that will not allow me to forget, that will not allow me to question the

matter of fact, and will not leave me wondering wherefore art does

debase, in saving face, where unto the maker of dreams spins webs and

shall promises be kept, where the maker of dreams creates unto the

perception of the perspective of exactly just whom it is that does, one

further past, passed the scrolling intent, worth bought in action of two

promoting the thoughts of three, to never exist again in the vast expanse

to remove, at all costs, every thread tying thee to thee and them to they

hung up on the tree, suspended in mid air, reading the symbols none have

read, and catching up all of history to today's bread, so many dreams, too

many happenstances, and more than enough of the vision for eyes to die

at the sight of the light of former years woe, and retrospectively, enough

slaughter for the senses death, and de-sensitizing it is, this, abrupt change

knowing for once to never return againe, and at once and also always the

same, it never ends, and just the thought of continuing within, mind-bent

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