The Forty Afterlife.

It’s forty past the hour, the feeling is sour, when did the power loose it’s effect, defected and all seems at the edge, peeping over, the end came.The next chapter is an extension only the sleeping silent know, walking like a ghost and I ain’t no casper, reassessing my curses and am blessed to be in Heaven.

Peace be with all that I left, walking as the dead and this sketchy look is paragraphed in text, flipping sheets like sex, a master to it’s sweet taste is an obsession, addicted.

Saddest feeling is but one, never got to say goodbye, her, my best drug, my everlasting desire, attached to her like a mother to child, blood linked and the water in between we just sipped.

Am in the darkness and I lost the light, maybe the batteries drained dead, after my passing, my passion never died, forever extends beyond infinity and my next obsession will be to never feel the less and my war will be the new version of I, goodbye is not of now, the past is my memory that I’ll forever lust of us.

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