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Nicholas Martin (Other) by horus8

To the poets of poemranker & those who knew the ingenius poetry of Settle; A very strange thing happened to me today. I received a phone call from his Mother. Apparently, Nicholas, decided to hang himself dead in his apartment. Nicholas, was my friend, and a brilliant young man. Why he chose to end his life at twenty years of age is just incredibly unjustifiable and a fucking shame. I had him over for dinner earlier this Summer, and I sensed he was depressed, but this is just unbelievable and very disturbing to me. Therefore, I will keep this short. For those of you that shared an interest in his mind as I very much did... Take a moment with me now. A young and beautiful artist has left the building permanently. God bless you Nicholas, and you and your family will be in mine, and my family's prayers. 9-12-03. With love, and condolences, Jeremi Britt Handrinos.

god'swife 14-Sep-03/8:26 AM
So is this about the tickets? I see, how telling. Don't worry the checks in the mail. You too have a phone that calls outwardly. We lost track of the date. Our lives do not revolve around yours, and it takes up time and energy to bring two households together. We dropped by the day to see you. You unfortunately, as is the case more often than not, where completely unavailable. You spoke only of yourself never showing any interest in this wonderful thing that has happened to me. I left it at that, and didn't even think of judging you because of it.

You disgust me. Your conduct has no love in it. Instead of expressing some kind of sorrow or disapointment, all you express is empty rage, and on so public and impersonnel a place as the internet.(it's not about walking on eggshells, it's about somethings being dear enough to be private, like my wedding was) You're ego has flucuated, you've always taken up a lot of room, as some artists do, but now you are the worst kind of artist, you are an egomaniac. I feel sorry for you. It wasn't long ago you called me crying on the phone because you caught a glimpse of the reality of what your life has become. What you do for money I have never done, except maybe for love, maybe, don't fool yourself, you are the cripple.




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