While I am still here…

Another epinephrine surge, un-directed, un-articulated. Innate. Cruising through the pipelines, un-metabolized and un-dissipated. Scribbling through the virtual; lest we derail another train of thought harboring a harbinger of inevitable-nothingness-esque payload.

Like a destined anvil, you cushion the hammer-fall.

Scourge of existence.

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