but then I guess it was all but a presupposition made by physiological needs. perhaps it is. what was true then maybe a hallucination that my mind played on me. after all, I never thought it would be plausible. each word, each smile, each tap and hug that assures me of something life never thought possible are but life's game.
and now, I guess, I'll try. no. do. I'll do forget the existence of such sweet memory but death of an existence. death of a wanting that plays on desire and obssesion but always come down to destruction.
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