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Prepare
to
evacuate
soul
in
five
,
in
four
,
three
,
two
,
one
.
And
I
'm
passed
overhead
,
hand
to
hand
,
crowd
surfing
toward
the
door
.
I
'm
floating
.
I
'm
flying
.
I
'm
yelling
,
fight
club
is
mine
.
Project
Mayhem
was
my
idea
.
You
ca
n't
throw
me
out
.
I
'm
in
control
here
.
Go
home
.
The
voice
of
the
chapter
leader
yells
,
"
Registered
fight
number
one
,
please
take
the
center
of
the
floor
.
Now
!
"
I
'm
not
leaving
.
I
'm
not
giving
up
.
I
can
beat
this
.
I
'm
in
control
here
.
"
Evict
fight
club
member
,
now
!
"
Evacuate
soul
,
now
.
And
I
fly
slowly
out
the
door
and
into
the
night
with
the
stars
overhead
and
the
cold
air
,
and
I
settle
to
the
parking
lot
concrete
.
All
the
hands
retreat
,
and
a
door
shuts
behind
me
,
and
a
bolt
snaps
it
locked
.
In
a
hundred
cities
,
fight
club
goes
on
without
me
.
For
years
now
I
've
wanted
to
fall
asleep
.
The
sort
of
slipping
off
,
the
giving
up
,
the
falling
part
of
sleep
.
Now
sleeping
is
the
last
thing
I
want
to
do
.
I
'm
with
Marla
in
room
8G
at
the
Reagent
Hotel
.
With
all
the
old
people
and
junkies
shut
up
in
their
little
rooms
,
here
,
somehow
,
my
pacing
desperation
seems
sort
of
norms
and
expected
.