the last cigarettes are smoked, the loaves are sliced, and lest this be taken for wry sorrow, drown the spider in wine. you are much more than simply dead: I am a dish for your ashes, I am a fist for your vanished air. the most terrible thing about life is finding it gone.
Now something so sad has hold of us that the breath leaves and we can't even cry.
I wish to weep but sorrow is stupid. I wish to believe but belief is a graveyard.
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