Flailing arms wildly in quicksand,
It devours me whole.
Plunged into a haunting nightmare,
It annihilates my soul.
Yearning to be a flaneur,
Discard the arcanum of love.
Longing for senescence and death,
Efface then my omnipresence.
Aware I suffer from the megrims,
Have I thus been ensorcelled.
Abundant is my sciolism,
But still I was, a true sui generis.

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