It is cracked, cut the razor blade through the flesh, the tray slides along the esophagus, the train pulls the body with, as the fumes filled the lungs, the poison spreads through the veins, or the rope breaks his neck.
I take my solitary rounds through the deserted corridors of the hospital. Think of the end at my end.
had I used a bad conscience when such thoughts around me, when I dipped into it and if my heart with each beat aroused a longing for them. Earlier, the logic of fighting against the desire, now it is silent, while my steps echoed in the dark.
'The end, my end. "I repeated quietly, and notice a gentle smile on my lips.
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