I am a has-been. A never was. Living life with a mind that plays tricks, never fully banishing ignorance but cloak-and-daggering it, so it resurfaces in in the worst of times. With a future so bright. I sit in a crumbling down home, with many badges of war - a war fought on all fronts at any costs against reality. I sit in this home and decompose, mentally and physically, as viruses devour my body and conscience attacks my brain. To be rid of this insatiable maiden - Thought - would be a sweet, sweet release into oblivion. My bonds would be loosened and it would all be ok.

The probability of this happening is nil. So I will continue to stumble on my path to nothingness. The intense will be joyous, a all too short relief from reality that lurks in the corners of my home.