as it is
it was as it is for now do i at last attend the solemn starts of truth in ruin whose end was nigh and still foregone abscond then with the spoils of my mortal bondage and let me age not one more day image credit: František Skála
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as it is
it was as it is for now do i at last attend the solemn starts of truth in ruin whose end was nigh and still foregone abscond then with the spoils of my mortal bondage and let me age not one more day image credit: František Skála

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if woe were me
I self-deprecate to the point of negation across all dimensions beyond space and time deferring to other’s desired projections toward futile endeavors I am not inclined for I am entwined in objective analysis however circuitous though it may be endlessly fraught with a self-wrought paralysis in the morass of vast obliquities forever beholden to untold afflictions depicting the…
accord
how sorrowful that i have not the hand to spurn this rent asylum wrested by what fate awaits me of its own accord
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ways unwinding
plunged into the great abandon trauma bound in ways unwinding waiting where her absence found me placid walls pitched lucid squander precedents yet linger onward solace whispered wistful plunder suns, surrendered moons, shone monstrous shifting umbral e’er i pondered nonetheless i loved you always
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from earth to ether
burden of her own existence wrought between ends isolated martyrs tamed at shames known altar thoughts in kind requite swore not shed as lash from earth to ether stranded at her muted grasp
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of fluent sun
if all but one breath could depart the wested will would burden none beneath the prose of fluent sun and restive breast since tamed invalid in this sanity I squandered slowly on the arrow’s edge ’til sorrow overcame my fondness whence such forbidden thoughts did stray
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for nothing
winter and I wish for nothing wading through the windows fragment stranded on the rigid edge through the stoic’s desperate prism flailing at the frigid words that struck the essence of her absence weeping at the widow’s ledge where i lept i lept i lept
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not enduring
prospective to endure another year of endless conscious err siphon every value dearest indolent for i alone
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unavailing.
a fever dream perperuant of fervid flight unearthed. enshrined. thine ever-looming unavailing vortices through time, though fragile squander even death’s decay in verses of mine own aver e’er wrought on planes of sole implicit
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disilluded
the hours arouse disillusion bedraped upon fraughted remorse fretful meander propels its pulse onward exacting a will fit for none with fury unfurling and blusterous breast the “worst” would conspire amid chaos so tireless did prove as a victor unwitting then felled by a fire resolute
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present
as sorrow sows its seed anew I reap its savage wander again a grievance rends me unaware and spares me not its grave
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to earth
afar from my grasp was a wisdom unsound to have held all and nothing at once and how I would wince as its tinsel unwound wearing wounds she has yet to repent
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son of a...
son of a…
as the son of a sadist
unsworn servitude has withered my will
and left me to brood
for sorrow is certain
through self-sabotage
existence a sentence of sordid mirage
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worn
the endless hour unravels
we writhe under the moor
as earth arrives unsung in reverie
fateless, evermore
at once the sun had risen
through sanity’s remorse
our faces worn
amidst the arbors
lost within god’s door
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heirs ailuric
when i cannot quell this chaos
kittens call to calm my nerves
droves of prismed clouds pileus
gather in the distant stir
auric airs of heirs ailuruc
stirring purrs on beds of fur
fucking hell i love my kittens
foremost i doth e’er aver
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Infernal Dialogue
curse this whole contrivance where our pen perverts our thoughts bastardizing our expression into ostentatious dross
which, indeed, is most ironic even now, i must abide by the terms of its imposing despite how it makes me writhe
were it only that i could resist the pretense of the mind set upon me with insistence i am loathe not to comply
for the state of my affliction disallows for deviation fro…
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tenses past
such finite truths shall yet unfurl
as we await
unwitting.
the tragedy of days, unending
the trill of earth afoot.
how tender is the untrained eye
which falls upon the burdened hallow
writhing in its sense of self
to leave this place no more.
allow these failinga
fear no loss
for freedom bears no will
i trust.
in tenses past
imploring, e’er
with sovereignty forsworn
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