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 Mar 2018 The Dybbuk
yúyīn
Tired..
 Mar 2018 The Dybbuk
yúyīn
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Youllneverunderstand me
@.**
 Mar 2018 The Dybbuk
LeV3e
A feminine exists behind
My thick, hardened masculine side
The troubled years have taught him pride
So he keeps her locked up inside

My pretty face exists behind
This massive, burly beard of mine
It grows without needing to try
Giving me a safe place to hide

My piercing eyes exist behind
Two glass lenses with frames that shine
Tools I use to focus the light
Bending photons, clear as the sky

My tattered soul exist behind
A legion of spirits reside
Amongst djinn they are unified
In my body they crystalize
Love is a verb.
An action so intense that it scalds the tongue and makes those 3 words difficult to say.
And with each broken heart, scar tissue builds up along the pallet and makes it even more difficult to say.
And the taste buds start to singe and the words taste bitter.
And then a new love comes along.
And her kisses are the aloe that opens up the vowels and consonants of the heart, and allow me to speak softly and concisely, until I am able to sing.
 Feb 2018 The Dybbuk
Bo Burnham
On a Wednesday morning, clear and calm,
                     I went to Astor Place
and had a gypsy read my palm
                     or maybe just my face.

She said my heart was heavy
                     and my head was stuffed with lies.
But things like that weren't on my hand,
                     they hid behind my eyes.

The room is dull and dank and cold but at
least I have a hand to hold.
Everyone cared
As soon as she died
Love shows up from all corners
After suicide

(But not before, because if you talk about suicide more than once, you'll just annoy the **** out of people, and if you talk about it too much, they'll start to think you're full of ****)
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