The last breath of the poet

Clean up your wind pipes for life's fresh air invites into your nostrils without recourse of force. You got to live whether you like it or not (and obviously not on your own terms it would be too easy). Welcome to the dystopian trip of an existential depressive guiding you through the ego of a higher IQ scheme. Hold on to your goggles, they might be useful if we drown.

For Boo and You