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61 lines
1.3 KiB
Text
61 lines
1.3 KiB
Text
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Montana IV
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2021-06-26
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***
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Standing at the riverside,
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muddy waters a mirror
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as thousands of faces pass by,
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their time
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here long since ended,
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their ghosts hung up to dry
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like my brothers' swimsuits.
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I am an idiot to think my youth
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would last forever.
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Squalor
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without end, boundless, free in the final
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whispering of the mundane life.
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And yet I want to be free
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of this sheath
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of flesh.
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I want love.
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I want death.
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I need a long rest
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from the prison of this persona
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I've built, brick by brick, around my body.
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There's a powerful persistent part of me
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that wants to renounce humanity
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and disappear forever into the trees.
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It's not the end for which I seek,
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but there is a haunting dream
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that reoccurs at least
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once a week
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where my higher mind is sealed
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away and I wander for years
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in that draconic body in some witch's menagerie.
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No more wants,
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just needs
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and simple pleasures
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like romping in that river,
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bathing in the sunshine,
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stomach content with whatever I can find.
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No more work,
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no more school,
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no more debt
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or responsibility.
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Owned only by myself,
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survivalist's hell
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my own little heaven.
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And, of course, mind robbed of memories
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of all the things I shirked,
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I suppose that witch's hand gently scritching
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the nape of my neck wouldn't hurt.
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***
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CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
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