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Don't take this pain away
from me, it's all I have
left. Don't worry for me,
I have no regrets; I fell
in love with my loneliness
and then I was able to live
again.

Her name is Forlorn,
I'll never leave her
'cause, just 'cause,
We're in a good place
together, with no one
but each other; loners
forever.
I rarely feel anything
anymore, think I'm in
a lot of pain but I can't

tell, been playing with
this numbness for too
long, hide and seek.

Somebody
answer me,

Why are we
human?
Well!?
Those ceaseless sounds
they continue to amaze
everlong as there shall
be praise.
Yes, lets giveth praise,
For music is the pantheon
which humanity hath raised.
Humans
construct their own narratives.

We are shrouded in these tales,
Each of us wearing our thoughts
woven from the cloth of memory
by the will of a dreamweaver,
And you, the dreamer/speaker.


No wonder the old gods fade, their notes replaced
with these stories we tell ourselves by the light
of day 'til night comes and again it's swept away
by storytellers who emerged from the dark
to practice their art and sing songs of new gods
which we raise up, construct, stitched like robes
we are clothed in these thoughts as our personae
roam, dramatis indeed, theatrically we seek/seeth;

Psychaé
wandering.
It's so hard to say it in words
so dedicate these works to her;
Yes, my god is female, unattain-
able, and I'm but a lonely man.
So judge me for what I believe/am.
It is the last day of May,
Summer's now in full swing
and I've come to realize many things.

I think, for once, I'd rather leave them
unwritten. There's little I can say
now that'll reconcile memory.
Poetry is freedom in expression, a lack of which is in-keeping with the mood I am. What's this then? Where silence says more than a poem.

Refusing to lend oneself to expression instead affirms an equal and opposite impression. Oh memory, once again, playing games with me.

Being, in
I stood facing the wind
and felt like a teenager,

For the first time in years
I had felt something, again;

And with that it began to re-
-solve and I felt much better.
Whatever
'it'
was.
I chose not to feel. I abandoned
all my emotion, I left love
to gather dust
and let memory sustain;
I ask myself
am I so stained?
I can't even remember
my own name.
Humanity will fall long before we can abscond to the stars.
Our planet already shifts with this paradigm that is human,
The so-christened 'anthropocene', it will leave us
for another age/deity; Dionysus or Apollo? A Gaian
dream or the Venusian nightmare, whom do we feed?
Consuming needlessly, heedlessly, we became enamoured
with that consummation, forgetting our own Earth-Mother;
We forget nature, we forego any chance to heal the world.
Instead we'll let runaway greenhouse effect be the death
of our home, we're desecrating Hestia
and soon the hearth will burn out
and shall be forevermore cold.

Sure doesn't the madgod hunger
for an end to his own insanity!
Are we not them and they not
an aspect of our own reflection?

Carl Sagan said we'd need four things to stop this madness:
Efficient use of non-renewables, better use of renewable energy,
Reforestation on a grand scale and self-sufficiency for the poor.
I wouldn't want to disappoint Carl.

(Help)[us]{hack-the-planet/save-the-environment}
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