there is a split in my brain, an obsidian ax bifurcating the two cerebral hemispheres. capable of thinking independently.
one i presume is the belligerent buffoon basking besides his insipid presumptuousness, always engaged in proving he is right.
this is not about him.
the other....the one that i hope is the true me, never surfaces in company, and can be seen roaming the urban catacombs with a distressed, somewhat nauseated look on his face with a cigarette lit in one hand. always reclusive, secretive, pensive and sullen.
now this guy has qualms, real deep seated issues, a product of fear, perpetually in survival mode, at times contemplating suicide. but then he figures that there is no escape, there is no said Elysium. he knows there is nothing he can do to assuage the predicament he himself purported and that, even if he could, there is no point running from it now. he knows
one i presume is the belligerent buffoon basking besides his insipid presumptuousness, always engaged in proving he is right.
this is not about him.
the other....the one that i hope is the true me, never surfaces in company, and can be seen roaming the urban catacombs with a distressed, somewhat nauseated look on his face with a cigarette lit in one hand. always reclusive, secretive, pensive and sullen.
now this guy has qualms, real deep seated issues, a product of fear, perpetually in survival mode, at times contemplating suicide. but then he figures that there is no escape, there is no said Elysium. he knows there is nothing he can do to assuage the predicament he himself purported and that, even if he could, there is no point running from it now. he knows
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