| Picture yourself in a nightmarish scene of such
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| grotesque complexity that you’d kill to be dreaming.
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| Your body’s been dying, while your mind has been trying
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| to make you picture a life where you’d kill for your
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| lover and a song in your head. |
| The deaths of countless
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| others simply set up the lyrics for your symphony.
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| That’s where you’ll find me.
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| something awful has happened here. |
| this is,
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| this is so much worse than i ever could have imagined
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| i knew it all along that this man should not have been released
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| god, what’s happened here, he’s completely torn his entire apartment apart
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| the smell is overpowering, a pungent odor,
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| like rotten food or i don’t know, possibly something worse
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| but there’s something else that’s almost overpowering
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| i think its a woman’s perfume, oh no.no.
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| i found the patient he’s lying on the floor in the center of the living room
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| completely naked, emaciated, deathly pale, it appears he hasn’t eaten anything
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| at all for weeks
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| the infection has spread up his arms, it must have reached his brain
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| there’s bulging bright red veins all the way up from his wrist to his neck
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| there’s empty bottles everywhere, of alcohol and medication
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| my god this smell is sickening
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| there’s blood coming out of his mouth nose ears
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| he’s not dead yet, but he’s close
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| i failed, this is my fault
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| and somehow, he’s smiling at me, i think he’s whispering something,
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| no, not just whispering, i think he’s singing…
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| Now, place your ear to my lips.
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| Trace these notes with your fingertips.
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| They dance alone on my last breath.
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| This is the end. |
| This is death.
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| the lines i wear around my wrist are there to prove that i exist
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| (someone call an ambulance, because something’s not right)
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| (the smell of her perfume struggles to cover everything)
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| we were inseparable |