I'm trying to struggle for nothing,
I want to be a heretic screaming towards nirvana,
On a burning rocket train of erasure.
I want to cease being myself, and even
Remove the idea of myself,
I will be erased from history,
in a backwards moving wave,
An ebbing tide,
that puts everything right.
And the twenty dollars I lost when I was ten
will be found.
And be put to good use.
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