I am full of cataclysm as the Earth shakes me from this deluded sleep.
I dreamt of chasms—Panoptes—like ye who behind Daemon weeps.
Soft murmurs trouble a tender heart,
Unlike mine own: She spurn to start
Unlike mine own: cruel mortality.
The bee must have stung to reap:
what not She sow, but the pride pooling at our feet.
So bare and drown'd in Lethe with Descartes
Something altogether: in part
Something altogether: hoax immortality.
Jul 10, 2023
Jul 10, 2023 at 4:09 PM UTC