The figure at the end of my hallway (or, The echo of future intent)

Hiss and click of can
Hysterical hiccup lands me
back where I began
Leaves’ tube leaves too bland
a taste
To blackout, to erase
to evade chases
Fading faces

Sleep beckons blighted to bed
Be gone, subtle stalker
united in dread at dearest rest
Clear, alone, undressed
Crooked jaw crumbles
as crash follows crest
By nought but solitude
is cursed company blessed

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