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Under the Magnifying Glass

I have lost something sacred. It is still alive out there, in the infinity of objects untenable and unforgettable. I thought I heard it call my name last night as my eyelids finally found each other. This absence knows me too well. It won't let me take my mind off my mind. If I could only measure like my strength, then I would know who I really am; and, I suppose, sleep even less. Alas, I've found that I can't wander as easily as my mind. I wish to float away from gravity and other discussions just as grave. How can I keep my enemies closer than this? A book once said that self-reproach is a dangerous thing. I never read that book, but it surely read me.
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Written by
the-silver-albatross
Norwegian
Published
Aug 16, 2010
Lines·Words
51·128
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