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Apr 2018
they warned me never to mumble, fingertip-tap morse-code morosely; never to mangle & mar the monosyllable.  and so i silenced any speech.  

they warned me to avoid glass, come noontide monsoons. and yet, come their noctem nightmare moon-tide, i'd curl against the windowpane-patch of pale as the storm-sounding swamp snapped moss-slung cypress asunder.

they warned me my body comprised a temple.  and they were right: a sempiternal chapel of unreason; oratory through atrophy.  and yet, they never understood the love-letters (bludgeoned bruises & bites) woven in my skin.

they warned me never to desire even the monosyllabic moan; never to crave the hurricanical clash; never to desire the wordless-word loveletters of bludgeoned bruises & bites.  

they warned me, warned me, warned me.  and so i knew i was sacred; and i was, Lord, i was -

but i knew the sacred rite of sacrifice.  i knew i'd never bear witness to a dawn in my Dark Night.  and so i suffered in my sin and knew my disparition Blessed, if only in the eyes of the ******.
Nana Magnus
Written by
Nana Magnus  20/F/elsewhere
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