Monday 3/12/2007 12:36:00 AM

I've always entertained suicide as one would any guest. With friendly offers of liquor and mints. And a promise of a place to stay the night should it exceed its own limits. I've always considered suicide the only real god. The one that actually listens when it hurts. The voice that answers with silence our most desperate of questions.

I've always wanted to be that sick. That lost. To think nothing of the consequence.

I've always wondered what drug there is to live for that I haven't tried. How it differs from the ones I've tested. Joy. Some broken calendar obese with years I've yet to live. How can they be happy. What makes it so? There's just the world. And us drowning in the rage of it. There's just the world. And us. Prone to gods that don't know. How lonely eden is.

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