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Even in the feeblest attempts of discovering the self,
I am immersed in the sheer beauty of this life...
I never expected you to read me when I blinked
or unzip my concealed lips to collect the words I hid
I truly meant it when I said I was fine
because I was alive
I hadn't lost anyone
and I was breathing
as I always have been
So why did it still hurt
when you're not around?
I hope you're not reading this.
It’s been over between us for a long time now

these are my ways of moving on

and I will not be sorry for letting go of these nasty emotions

that you placed in my heart and soul

I’m moving on

and I will forget the things that made me bitter

but not those that made me weak

I am a stronger person now

because you had me ready to cut my last ties to this life

but my soul is an old soul and it helped me see through it all

I am not who you remember me

I am not who you will ever meet

I’ve been enlightened from the darkest crevices of Hell

and that kind of strength will shine in my soul for eternity

To let go of toxicities

is to purify the soul


RKT
I cannot read
Help me understand
the words
you're putting down
Tell me
the reasons
behind your
actions
I want to
decode
your messages
Are we friends
or are we
something
more than that?
I cannot read
your thoughts
Show me
the underlying
meaning
of your being.
I want to understand.
Look, look, master, here comes two religious caterpillars.
                                                The Jew of Malta.

Polyphiloprogenitive
The sapient sutlers of the Lord
Drift across the window-panes.
In the beginning was the Word.

In the beginning was the Word.
Superfetation of ,
And at the mensual turn of time
Produced enervate Origen.

A painter of the Umbrian school
Designed upon a gesso ground
The nimbus of the Baptized God.
The wilderness is cracked and browned

But through the water pale and thin
Still shine the unoffending feet
And there above the painter set
The Father and the Paraclete.
    .    .    .    .    .
The sable presbyters approach
The avenue of penitence;
The young are red and pustular
Clutching piaculative pence.

Under the penitential gates
Sustained by staring Seraphim
Where the souls of the devout
Burn invisible and dim.

Along the garden-wall the bees
With hairy bellies pass between
The staminate and pistilate,
Blest office of the epicene.

Sweeney shifts from ham to ham
Stirring the water in his bath.
The masters of the subtle schools
Are controversial, polymath.
Miss Nancy Ellicott
Strode across the hills and broke them,
Rode across the hills and broke them—
The barren New England hills—
Riding to hounds
Over the cow-pasture.

Miss Nancy Ellicott smoked
And danced all the modern dances;
And her aunts were not quite sure how they felt about it,
But they knew that it was modern.

Upon the glazen shelves kept watch
Matthew and Waldo, guardians of the faith,
The army of unalterable law.
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