I will kill this off...even if it kills me.

I'm choking the life from it...it dies a slow death. I want it to hurt. I want it to hurt like it hurts me. Then I want it to burn white-hot until it's luminous and purified. I want it bottled-up and put on the shelf, with an expiration date that's post-dated put on the top. I want it displayed like an oddity in chloroform from some traveling freak-show. The people will offer ooh's and ahh's, then pass by as it has been forgotten in a moment. I want to be caught in that moment...and in the next moment, I want to remember nothing about it, forever.