What am I doing? What am I saying?

How is this helping the world get around
itself? The darkest chocolate is cloying!
Erratics surround the surrounding sound:
Quite a mellow man, quite a mellow could,
the obstinance is undressing the space,
and my hope shines her metal piece of wood
down my ritual backlog of disgrace:
Habits must be peculiar, but this is
missing the point of habits to begin 
with; my habits of hoping in crisis,
my hopes of happenings in the trash bin:
Was that a ME decision? I don't know.
What do you mean? That it's time now to go.
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