A Theory of Collateral Relapse
Gone through the bunker... Rafters pigment fads' reverence of a looping lasso. Round and around — caught! Get down! Sand on sand, clustered, throat-clogging expanse. Doom the rotten! Doom begotten! Doom the room that flips lapsed bandwidth. Every message is a citadel forgotten... A memory misplaced... A lie within the truth of a lie critiquing understanding... Life's apprehending all of man's refusal to ascend. All that bend beyond the rend. All who call the lull a withdrawal a sin. All who spin just to recycle the loss of a win. Let's pretend! Let's make amends! Let's... ...this is the end.
Written July 20,2026. © 2026 AnOublietteofThought.