Should they ever write of us
the lies they tell will be worse for their benevolence
Should they speak of us in hushed tones
their worship will be false as their fucking
All writers repeat:
They convince themselves the unique are unhappy
They see a life of misery and think it a miserable life
They take a suicide and judge it tragedy
They immortalize suffering:
Our immortal joy won’t interest them at all
Let us die together, beloved
Let us do it now, before they determine what to write
Let our immortality be something only lovers share
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