Bug-infested floorboards—can we please just leave this place, now.

"Just shut up and swallow! Before your last breath, you'll say what's to be said."
Well my last breath breathed/leaked last night as he melted into walls that spoke like the sun to the last man and woman on the earth, "we will both die nice and warm". Warm, is what it is to see his insides on the floor of an abandoned auditorium, singing in polyphony. "Just shut up and swallow!" is what the kid meant when he complained about all of it, the ease of an important procedure and how everyone everywhere was always, mostly often, laying down on him, meeting, crushing killing him, but I bought none of it. This is not universal. Kid is not he who abandoned that auditorium and no, I do not want to become him anymore, but yes, I do want him to become what I believe he once was, my best friend, and stop that he still he is. I don't really think about it that way, no, I don't really ever think about it that way. Well me neither.
I think I'll leave this place now go to summer where the sun won't go down.
I'll gladly leave this place. How wonderful the days would seem away from here.
"Just shut up and swallow!" I thought they all said, so I complained about all of it, but now I think I'll leave this place, now I think I'm the same. Now we're the same.