A terminal decline

A terminal decline, X tells me, that’s what he’s entering, that’s what he’s entered. I’m thinking of the time when I won’t even be able to talk to you, he says, when I can no longer say you. But I won’t be able to stop talking, will I? he says. I’ll babble and mutter to no one in particular, he says, here in my hole, in my terminal decline, like I do now.


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