Each little bit of dull pain
Tells of systems slowly choking in dreck
Stray subroutines playing out at the wrong times:
Control buggered. Will
What might get us through all
Leached out: a pale ego
Like the undead fetch of Der Fliegende Hollander
Continuing to drag his craft around upon
The turbulent waters etc
Of this whole wide world etc
Sick unto death
Like we were all just born: the
Little patches of mild nausea
Just anyone's reaction to realising
Yet again where we are stuck within:
one way trip on the Flesh Line
Great Western Railroad
Passing through the station-stops faster
Faster.
Foot only from here.
A fresh breeze & rain in the night
Should soon clear the head.



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