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i lost a friend today.
not to death.
almost to death.
i called the police as they attempted.
they have stopped talking to me.
they are angry

i lost a friend today
i wish i had done better.
they almost left.
without a word.
i wish they hadnt told me.

i lost a friend today.
my friend attempted suicide today and i called the police. they told me to ******* and die.
i want to hurt.
 Feb 10 Milo
JAMIL HUSSAIN
By the rose’s touch, may love arise,  
A glowing light beneath soft skies.  
In every heart, may it remain,  
A timeless flame that knows no pain.
Under Love's Wing 10/02/2025 © All Rights Reserved by Jamil Hussain
 Feb 7 Milo
Nat Lipstadt
2/6/35 4:57pm

“and let the boys
Bring flowers in last month's newspapers.
Let be be finale of seem.
The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.”
<•>

Let X
(mark the spot)
Let X
be what it seems
Let X
be the finale,
the answer it seems
to be,
not the necessary one
you wish it to be,
but what be

seemly

the sense of The End,
the final descent,
the last landing
(or perhaps the first takeoff)
let it be,
be a finale,

Let X
be the finale,

Let Be
the answer it seems to be

let be
(1) Wallace Stevens  from “The Emporer of Ice Cream”. https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Emperor_of_Ice-Cream
From fascism to fascism,
Through a softer, sly disguise,
Under Satan’s dark baptism,
Tiny worlds meet their demise.

Genocide and degradation,
Artificial to the core,
Spirit’s death and mind’s stagnation—
Drowning deep in filth and gore.

Fear and blind submission lead us,
All foundations cast aside.
From fake plagues to beasts they breed us,
Till the herds are stupefied.

Fools don’t set the night in motion—
They need sheep, not hell unleashed.
Empty heads find full devotion
If their coats are soft and sleek.

But what path is left for moving?
Hell is here, it’s not ahead.
Hellspawn rule us, all-consuming,
Feasting on the souls they bled.

Politics is just a circus,
Where the clowns obey commands.
Truth is drowned in lies on purpose—
Crowds don't bite the guiding hands.

So, they earn their fate in measure,
For the madness owns their breath.
Not for years, but times unmeasured
They have worshipped lies to death.

— The End —