then the second.
it's horrible.
what was i thinking trying
to get
a book out of any of this.
babbling
all the time about me,
for the most
part.
self indulgent to the nth
degree.
but what the hell, what
are we
living for.
why not throw it all out
there into the world.
and if no one cares, or likes
any of it.
so what.
i'll write more and more
and more.
until there's nothing left,
not a word
not a thought
inside the well.
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