|This writing has not yet been rated and therefore this information is not yet available.|
In the crowded room/
I noticed myself as an observer, and how many observers there were.
The place was teeming with infiltrating shaggability
and justifiably hard talks,
and I wondered if we could somehow construct an alternative death for each one, or only one guest
I found the mystery of who's-gonna-wind/end-up-in-someone's-bed quite anticlimactic;
On the other hand,
I enjoyed the shitty food, for it hath reminded me of a time where nostalgia served to confirm a nightmare for Nietzsche.
I used the language I thought I'd used (what?) and peacefully went to go fuck myself.