into the void i fell, unable to climb out into life, unable to take a
stand, unable to take a wife. i roam the streets distraught, my face a
mask of woe somewhere inside me, monstrous thoughts grow... thoughts
of a noose, a chair, a lamp flickering in the dusk, while a body
swings, life absent, a dead and stinking husk. they’ll need bleach and
mops for the ghastly scene they find, the stench of feces will drive
the officers out of their minds. so squeamish we are when someone no
longer can bear the grief, we want him to stick around, to enshrine
our religious belief. enough of that crap, stop being so cruel and
cold, some folks simply never were meant to suffer growing old.