The cold quietness of the night is when this loneliness
sparks its incorruptible roister of self-existent misery;
there is no quarter of the length from whence this
torrent and chronic invasion cometh to pass, so, I
welter alone through this hellish
Bitter resentment hails within a memory, Looking back in a room full of sorrow Standing in Purgatory and waiting in line For the penultim...
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