I'm in the net again.
Old behavioral patterns reemerge from buried depths
like hollow airtight buoys vainly shoved beneath:
fills a world devoid of cosmic purpose…
fits a life estranged from common bonds;
inflates my masochistic ego…
conflagrates my mental sores.
* * * * *
But why encourage death's dark forest
when time's abyss shall gain the final victory
in its own time?
Despite feeble grumblings and desperate fears
the end is certain….yes.
Yet I deceive myself
in thinking I will have won
by choosing the time and circumstances of my end.
And although oblivion might seem preferable to the pain,
why not experience what is?
--whatever it may be--
the pain at least is memorable.