Whether of betrayal,
Or me succumbing to stronger and longer relationships,
Every bit more intoxicating than she.
Uncanny, it seemed, that regardless, in the storm door of my big thinkin appendage,
Remains my human lust for currency, material, with which to influence.
Even when i am at most removed from these realities, am i consumed by them.
Is this really just the Human Condition. ? ...
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