day 364

I don't know when to end.
all paths are there.
You decide yours.

The span of the entire corpus -
escape the grasp of the writers.

bleed gently,
I lost the will to write further.
bleed profusely,
I lost the will to read further.

You repeat my acts of literature.
But you cannot repeat my faith.

(Wishing I was never born, as I.)