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80
poetry/n/namesake.txt
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poetry/n/namesake.txt
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Namesake
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2021-08-18
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***
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What am I supposed to make of myself, plural?
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I lie on my bed, wracking myself up into a whirl
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trying to rationalize
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myself, wise,
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self-sovereign individual,
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with this other person with equal claim to pilot my heart
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who claims to love the world
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but would sooner tear me apart.
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She rests inside,
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and no matter how long I writhe
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in bed
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in search of a dream unspilled,
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unsaid,
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no matter how many runes I draw in the air,
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I cannot banish her,
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cannot bade her on fair
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travel.
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How I wish I could,
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could render her dead,
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for I am long on the trail
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to unravel,
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entrails
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my last legacy
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as I succumb to egocide and perish in a heap.
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Self-sworn was my purpose,
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and yet
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night
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after
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night
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I dream of martyring myself in service
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of saving the lives
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of those who with I reside,
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entombed
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with all honors
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in crystal or ice.
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But instead of on eternal altar,
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I lie down
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on the carpet,
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mirror close by.
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Dorian's gray eyes
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stare back.
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Now Lethe is the one who wants to survive
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despite her atrocities,
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despite Three Years' genocide.
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And I,
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perfect, faultless, peak,
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find myself with no more to accomplish,
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just yearning to wind down, final commit, cease.
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But there is no Elysium.
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There is no carnal paradise,
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no Architect to beg to splice
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this dual-thorned personality.
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Lethe has her Sablade,
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self-made
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world
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ready to with her love unfurl,
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but I have no such salvation,
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no such definite endgame.
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What am I supposed to make of myself, plural?
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I don't want to cause harm, don't want to go feral
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and annihilate
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all that I've worked
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so hard to create.
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But I don't own this corpse,
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can barely control my limbs,
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hanging on to light so Lethe can't lock me within.
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***
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CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
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28
poetry/n/neniam-mian.txt
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poetry/n/neniam-mian.txt
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neniam mian
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2016-08-23
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***
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last time I checked, my eyes weren't a faucet
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use something else to fill up your bath
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surely that bath bomb you wasted $200 on isn't worth
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making me a leaky pipe
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little worryings that I write
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on swirls of colors found at lakes
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pink blobs of flowers scream to only my ears
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"what if you get sick of me?"
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maybe they're insane
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but I'm not sure who "they" are
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maybe it's a ghost of a past me
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laughing herself into obscurity
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drugs advertised on billboards on the side of the road
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tapping my fingers on the steering wheel
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just two hours away from your sleeping body
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two hours away from the end
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***
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CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
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44
poetry/n/nil.txt
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poetry/n/nil.txt
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Nil
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2020-02-21
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***
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"Neutrality is taking the enemy's side."
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But when someone quotes that, they usually
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intend for you to comply.
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So I dug myself a grave and called it my home,
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and I forced myself to be content
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with being with you alone.
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And it wasn't until I'd been choking for a while
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that my vision finally tunneled,
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only seeing your smile...
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Your grin, your gunt, your toothless embrace,
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everything I am, you think
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is yours to freely take.
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And I don't know how,
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but I found the strength
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to dig myself out,
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and the poison you denied was simply just air
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never moved to harm me,
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just sat inert there.
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"A coward! A coward!" you call from the tomb,
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but I'd think it more pitiful to continue
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letting you give me more wounds.
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So tell me,
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why should I sacrifice myself
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for your greed?
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Are you anxious, restless, shaken, unsure
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that the prison you've constructed
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is truly your cure?
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***
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CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
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43
poetry/n/nomadic.txt
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poetry/n/nomadic.txt
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nomadic
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2019-01-11
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***
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for as long as I can remember
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I've always been afflicted with wanderlust
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from the very beginning
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wandering in waist-high grass in the train yard
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threatening to run away
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to become lost in the titan machines, slowly rusting towards their demise
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given my father's blessing
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and you were there when the doldrums started
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when I met that accursed brown tumult of hair
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starting the first sparks to stoke the flame
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that would eventually become me
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every day
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I told you I wanted to run away
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and you never listened, did you?
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or maybe you just listened too hard.
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we thought Neocities would be a fresh start
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given a world of our own instead of cookie-cutter templates
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then Lucine made a scene
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and with light the shards teemed
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and freedom just became another pipe dream.
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whether from a genuine need for rebirth
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or easily-triggered boredom, pervading through
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it seems I am destined to never stand still
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to never settle down in one place
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either grow or not
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forever leaving behind link rot
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for the next safe place, I have always sought
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***
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CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
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38
poetry/n/nosteponsnek.txt
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poetry/n/nosteponsnek.txt
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no step on snek
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2020-11-21
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***
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do you really think me selfish
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because I do not believe
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that charity should be done
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at the point of a gun?
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would that I could snap my fingers
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and free every person from detention
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but injustice does not forgive injustice
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and force breeds only resentment
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a land for every person
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where they can live free, left alone
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no longer enslaved to the fear
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of hearing that siren two-tone
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do you really think me pitiful
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because I do not feel
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that freedom can be gained
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by lapping at politician's heel?
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if power could destroy itself
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we wouldn't be almost at three centuries
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of simping to an authority
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instead of doing as we please
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and harm none, do as ye will:
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I will live by this prayer
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and life will be fulfilling
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even if not always fair
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***
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CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
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62
poetry/n/not-found.txt
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poetry/n/not-found.txt
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not found
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2019-02-23
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***
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you can be Kesha
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and I'll be Alice.
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Alice,
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Alice,
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Arisu,
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*I never meant to hurt you, Arisu.*
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*I love you, Arisu.*
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I hurt,
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and I hurt back,
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and I disappear,
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and I forget
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the light and the dark
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a construct as old as time itself
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the duality that lies at the heart of mankind
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the god and the devil
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the sun and the moon
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the blue and the gold
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the new and the old
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the ancient father
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of every daughter I've known
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but I don't know if I'll make it through this night.
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is it because I'm trapped in an institution that does naught but suck money from me?
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is it because, no matter where I go on this Wired, I keep making an asshat of myself?
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how many licks does it take to get to the center of a trademarked corporate candy?
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a-one, a-two, a-three!
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the world may never know,
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*and I sure as hell don't!*
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with aching knees and a heavy heart,
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I push myself off the floor
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and decide that I will keep fighting.
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for what, I know not
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for who, I remember not
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but even though my feet yearn for rest
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my heart must keep thumping
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it is 4:04 in the morning
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and a phone's brightness is blaring into the night
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abandoned by its owner
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and I have had gods at my feet
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and angels in my arms, in my hair, touching everywhere
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even if I cannot remember what they've said
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Seliph the Indomitable,
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Seliph the E'er-Complete,
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it shines above and crawls below
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and guides along my feet
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***
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CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
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75
poetry/n/novatore.txt
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poetry/n/novatore.txt
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novatore sang in the sun
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2019-05-12
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***
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I am a strange and cursed poet
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delirious, destined, comprised
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of a million litle shards of light
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laying stabbed here,
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alone, abandoned, punishment for pursuit
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of a weird and perverse rite
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over-reliant on nuggets from days gone by
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what happened to the age where I used to so easelessly fly?
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tell me, my angel, the love of my life
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what do you make of this thing we call time?
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for an enigmatic sort of maelstrom has overtaken my heart
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and now I yearn for a world that does not exist,
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that I *know* does not exist, has never, will never
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in all of the atoms of my body
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and yet they call out to you
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burn in the depths of the night
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two ragged scars on the back of my chest sobbing
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for the fields in which we used to play the days away.
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I want to tell you a story
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of a girl named Lucine
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and the many exploits of hers
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which I've oft dreamed
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but the encore came out of left field
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for now I sit here among the tomatoes in my garden
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and revel in a world
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where such beautiful things can exist
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underneath my fingertips, lithe as my skin-
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despite the odds, are you and I kin?
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her arms would feel lithe,
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this goddess of mine,
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but I have the feeling
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I am proudly less than divine
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the final day approaches swiftly.
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I am nineteen now,
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and I must be brave.
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the time for hiding, cowering behind someone else is over;
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there can be no other way.
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damn it all! damn it all to the end!
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why do I persist in this place, for some semblance of "friend"?
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an expectation of returns on my dues?
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all you pitiful monsters want me to become a recluse!
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all these months I've wasted, collecting your facts
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while on everything I've ever loved, so relentlessly shat
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do you think me a pawn of some scripted fate?
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I can get around without references, even if it means I'll be late!
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stop looking,
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stop hiding,
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stop pretending you care.
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a perverse need to know,
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an addiction to hear-say.
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truthiness? *where?*
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if the world shall stand against me,
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and my right to exist as I am,
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then I shall stand against it in equal measure.
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***
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CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
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poetry/n/state.txt
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poetry/n/state.txt
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No Sustained State Has Ever Existed
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(All Empires Fall Eventually)
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2020-08-16
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***
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you can talk of human nature,
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how I need a preacher
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to tell me I don't deserve infinity,
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how I don't deserve to *breathe* and *live free*.
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it hurts me to say, I thought you were close
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to seeing behind the veil so thin as a ghost.
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no matter, no wait: I'll still cease this pain!
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no revolution needed to break these chains!
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why should I care about the sleepwalking masses
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with their corporatist bows and their highway overpasses?
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why should I live under tyranny's grasp
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just because of the failures of those in the past?
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I know not who you spoke to; I know not what you "learned"
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to make liberty to you so easily spurned.
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I'll go it alone if I can, if I must
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walk down this path without anyone I can trust.
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your Stalins and Maos and Lenins breathe no more,
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but through my veins burns dear Novatore!
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I am a Goddess-sent beast, a destroyer of cages,
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through my harsh-spoken words and knobby phalanges!
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No war but my war,
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no cause but my cause,
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no power but my power,
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no laws but my laws!
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***
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CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
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