one thing i absolutely refuse to let happen (again) is wasting a year of my life on you. i will not let this year go down the drain, dripping in your filth and scum and
poison.
i will not fill this year with days disposed by speaking to you - your presence is a vortex that eliminates any and every shroud of happiness i hold, and i refuse to let my soul rot any more than it already has due to you.
this is the last poem i will ever write you.
