• This life of contingency,
    Gambits, best guesses,
    Relying on intuition,
    Has left me drained, a chanceless beggar.
    A contrite groan, unable to be stifled, escapes me.
    Every breath is a disappointment.
    Every love, a deliberate, descending walk into Maelstrom.

    With deepest regret, I've found I've bet everything,
    And I have nothing left to gamble.
    In realization that this trick question has stumped me,
    I concede and remain silent;
    Every guess is wrong.
    I look toward my intuition for comfort, meeting a wall.
    Another turn of my head, another wall.
    My head revolves until I'm sure,
    With another contraction, my neck will break.
    My last savior has eluded me.
    A truth: I'm out of excuses.

    I've no excuse to continue dreaming within a dream.
    I can no longer stand by and wait for an imaginary absolution.
    With this new, dismal realization, I am resolute.

    If you should need an epitome,
    Please stand in awe before this form,
    This lifeless form..
    That used to be a man!
    This lifeless form..
    That used to be me..

    And even as the flames of Hell lick my soul,
    As I face immolation,
    I will not look to the skies for my family.
    They, as is usual, will not be there.
    I have no family.

    To he who finds me in this gruesome state,
    Or she, even,
    My apologies.

    For you, I have a word:

    Remember.

    I bequeath to you, this memory.
    Hold onto it.
    Struggle with it.
    As I have struggled.
    As I have suffered.