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B-Bruumen
B-Bruumen
18/M/My Couch I'm just a little philosophical, feministic, over apologetic, weird, fluffy writer boy.
Would you slip into my skin and spend the night? And after that, slow dance in front of a bigoted populace that seeks uniformity in the minds of us happy few? Would you mind if I carried you away from our performance and showed you a special kind of spirituality? The kind that guides and intensifies beauty but is considered evil and immoral to those who never seem to understand us. Those who comfort to and rot in subjective complexity, cognitive normality and traditional toxicity, manifested by history and old, yet matured minds. My lord, would you mind if I showed you a world you might hate less? Long enough for me to create you a world that you will love more. For you see, I owe you nothing but love and happiness. For you have shown me nothing less of that.
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Nov 7, 2020
Nov 7, 2020 at 1:46 PM UTC
Questions
I say to you, my dear. The sky seems darker, when you turn away. Grains of sand seem to be less tempting to count, when you turn away. The light in my eyes die out, when you turn away. The smoke from a pleasant, yet random gentleman's cigarette and the bottle filled with blood red wine belonging to a wise, yet mysterious lady calls to me, when you turn away. The objectiveness of morality seems pointless, when you turn away. The soft words of your soul seem lost in translation. Your plea for peace sounds absurd. My selfishness seems rational. Your cries for me to change are lost in void. The meaning of your love becomes a forgotten proverb - when you turn away. For your attention gives meaning and your beauty is an inspiring art; the magnum opus I shan't live without.
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Nov 6, 2020
Nov 6, 2020 at 2:58 PM UTC
When you turn away.