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Jun 29
I hear city nightlife scream
a thrill, raucous, and
unadulterated glee; and I
realize love lost
for a city I once dared lay
a claim to.
Drunken voices
resolve, then pass, fade
into their night. I cannot
feel the love, cannot drink
enough (won't). It hurts less
but what if my ignorance billows
while I am trapped. Where's my ***
drive? Didn't misplace it. There's my ex.
Can't erase this. Buried it. Didn't want t'****
it all up. Look here, aha ha, here I am.
Keep me awake. I'll finish this poem. I'm into some
serious sleep-debt. Willingness
is hurting oneself. A problem's
being too willing to see the other side. Despite misgivings
that've run amok,
I trust my ethics
enough to study the dark arts.
Good morning Roman Countryside.
The City of Rome's dawn
asks kindly would I arise?
Mydriasis Aletheia
Written by
Mydriasis Aletheia  24/Other/The Empyrean
(24/Other/The Empyrean)   
291
   Michael Angelo
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