If only; I could confess; that I am no warrior at all; if I had to fight her.
This is the drag of night; caught in the slipstream of ennui: but when sleep wrings my arms; her grip is never so much- a grip - as a grip; but is merely the touch of a miracle; merely comfort; merely rest. She hauls the blanket from afar and throws it upon the cadaver of my soul; cover the delirium; hide the murmurs of a heart. Oh, how she whispers to me. "Good
night for now. And fight the future tomorrow; not tonight." And pray, that moonshine will take these lifewounds away from hellhounds and hell.
"And I will be the penance to the awakedness; the pain you feel. Good
I could only want a piece of peace; for the world crumbles in noise; is too noisy. Like engines fired up for eternity; we: the parts are spinning and acting out our parts: man and their stages; it is fright and their monologues; pride and their soliloquies. I could only want a piece of peace; before I crumble like a cookie; wrap myself silly in the throes of insanity; weeping for mercy.
The world is too noisy; is only capable of noise; only noise.
To remember is to forget; that we are only human; for- experience is only illusion; for- when we hold out unto memory; to remind ourselves that we have lived; is to escape we have really died; and become reborn in the fire.
ii.
Yet a man who has no past; has no future; for- when we struggle to carve history into our veins; we become lesser than man; more like god; closer to the devil; more than us.
pale as the white breeze, the eye cannot maketh its crease, the trough, the zennith, the power...it speaks...it reeks...Oh! how it piques my curiosity! how it delves into the nebulous truth of reality, how it
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