"The hero walks on,
grinding his way to perdition,
polarized between abject apathy and
nervous breakdowns, merging his range by
grinding on regardless of
reason, gambling sanity on that vague, uncertain
edge (0.73ptbb/100 with a standard
deviation of 87 in units of
blinds), ever declining with his
sobriety and mental stability, finding instead
equality with his foes
in the number of tears
and fears that they lose with each passing
hand (14945/day on average).This is a perverse
endurance of life's abuse
(oh if only i would make that fold).
Oh, please don't look at me like that