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 LAND OF THE DEAD
Come to the infinity
     of my soul
It will continue
     for evermore
It is old.
  
In six days
     a half of century
     will
     capture me.

A number in space and time
     still alive.

Love calling at me martyr, out of control
     depression blamed on weakness,
As a character flaw.

Stupid man nurse
     disease, burnout,
     chemical imbalance
Walked a tightrope on eggshells
      for too long.

The land of the dead beckons
     over amp of
     adrenaline to cease.

You live there now
     justified for all hurt
     can pretend nonentity.

A speck of nothing
     won't catch me.

Particle,
     breeze on
     to your mausoleum.


3/5/2006 cj



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