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He sighed deeply in comfort, so suitably ordained by the fruits of his labouros contention, the nectar of the gods quelled all feelings ill from his mind and cleared him once and again it was his only friend it could only be his friend. Nothing else, no, no-one else could ever come close to one such as him he was not a man he was a monster as he always had been so too would he forever be, he would sob oh how he subconsciously wished he could still do such a thing, it was not for want that he did not receive any tears nor cries of discontent, he was merely a river stream upon a much larger ocean, he lay upon his back paralysed unable to move unable to act, but oh so much in ecstacy, when he did not feel like this he did so miss it. When he did feel like this he did perhaps curse it, he would not fake a higher ground nor take any precautions with ones self. He loved the taste the thrill though strangely numbing that he did somehow feel.

He did not understand that which he felt ut he did so love it, he was paralysed and yet he could move, sweat dripped so hastily from his body, the needle slowly left hi his mind swirling in a rough spiral of ecstatic pneumonia, he sighed as if a man having relived a night of blissful debauchery and all it had took from him was a small portion of the man he once was, the man he would never again be, the man he wished never to be for that man was not a man nor was he a man now, a monster at both times just not of the same heights.

He stood rough and ragged, his clothes worn were old and torn but he did not much care for such pleasantries at least not anymore, he walked through the alleyways, mice scuttling by his side he knew they were there he heard them and he saw them and much much more.

he brushed his right hand gently across his mouth flapping his bottom lips slightly he would have to now make his way home his head was both pained and in paradise at once, he would worry not today not tomorrow perhaps not ever to come but somehow he would maybe without worry feel dread and despair, or perhaps they were simply what he felt as of always.his eyes sung red like stung by a hornets nest, his face pale and worn as if at a loss for blood, he stood a moderate height slouched at 5'12 he was slim, underweight perhaps his face worn and not much else could be said, but he still held some resemblance to something that may have once looked well.

He hailed a taxi as he did at all times, perhaps he would be known, perhaps he should ne known, his name was Jim, what he now was, was an enigma to himself as he passed his money to the cabbie and hailed his ride home he thought only of natures beauty and how deceiving it can be.

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