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Apr 2 · 192
on any sunday
preston Apr 2

Sweetie, don't you understand?
Baby don't you get it?
Your help is  all around you.

The only thing that changes 
is your  awareness of it.

Every particle in the universe  carries
Love's hope within it. You feel that
most  whenever I speak to you. Does it
really need to be that every time I stop
holding you close to me,

that your perspective  falls back
once again to the loss of that  
ever-surrounding nature of Hope's glow?

My curse  is that I never stop seeing the
all-encompassing nature of that glow.
My curse is that i never stop feeling your
once-again loss of that  deeply
life-giving perspective.

My curse,  is watching all of the alliances
you have made within the loss of that view
so readily  steal  that gloriously
beautiful view from you..  
the moment your elation
of that Light's view  makes itself  
once again  available to you.

So, whether you are feeling or not
all things carry within it, that light..
and if  there were in fact,  a Christ
would not he (she?) carry within
every cell of his human flesh,  the
perpetual-encompassing of that full embrace
(and then, the unavoidable reception)
of the core of that very Hope's light?

And if that very light caused tension in others
wouldn't the death of him  be then
just as like the death of Hope's beautiful
perspective  within you?

Crazy-intense.. I know, my young beauty..
That is my curse, also.

You will never,  not be
the perfect choice  for me to love.

Should have been dead
on a Sunday morning,
banging my head..
no time for mourning

ain't got no time
Mar 25 · 280
preston Mar 25

There was a silence   within
the darkness of the cavern
broken only by a small,
splashing sound--

Rings, spread out  into the  clear,
and  in an instant, the chamber walls
filled with light..

My beautiful has been hurt  so badly
that she is  now only capable  of
believing in what is real..

And  as she skootches  out
onto the edge of the rock face
she places her toe  into the water,


That everything she moves towards
will be from the purest parts of the spring

..And it is this very act of believing
that makes these waters,  so pure;

Causing  those who've laid hidden  
in the shadows
to want to come near

--Causing me  to never want to stop
being her friend.

This is her magic.

It is like the greatest  of all gifts
to have found her.

Mar 21 · 509
gloria.. in excelsis.
preston Mar 21

When Love's scalpel  comes
towards my beautiful Gloria--

  she leans in to it

What is it that makes  this one
at such a tremendous  cost
to to herself

and yet, so many others
turn and run..
turn and hide?

I was built-- from the ground,  up
to help  hold ones
such as yourself,  up

as the bright   healing light  
of loves ache

dismantles  the intricacies  of our
once-necessary, life-built  
war machines..

yes, my beauty--
down to the very  core

of  your  foundation,
where you can finally  
have the chance

     to become  rebuilt:

from the ground's  true bedrock,

preston Mar 19

only in part, carrying  in them
the beautiful ache  of Love's

healing light..
but there is  nothing

   that is not  of them
  and there is nowhere  you can turn

  and no where you can run to
where  they are not  continually

all around you,  waiting..
hoping, dreaming

aching,  on your behalf.

Without your  desire  to tell them
that you can  see them

that you can feel them
that you understand them..

they are continually without purpose
                                           (on your behalf)

Light them up   by  believing
in their existence. my beautiful--

believe in them  and watch them glow.
Turn to them,  and watch yourself  

become  smothered
by the warmth of their redemption

..acknowledge them~
and they will never, ever leave you

clingy little lovebastards, they are
preston Mar 17


I am not a man of fear,
but you do scare me sometimes, beauty.
I know this latest plunge of yours  was far
more difficult for you than you were letting on.
I also know that you were closer to the edge  of
letting go than you have possibly ever been before.

Fear on my part only comes from the distance-created
inability that all but renders love, impotent..   but still,   I feel..
and I knew, baby.. that if I didnt dig deeply into the earth's rich,
dark loam with all there is of me, able to believe for you on your
behalf-- within those.. the darkest of moments, that you might
possibly (out of the stifling fear of anyone close to you, to move
forward- into you in order to truly save you)..

    --that you might
    actually die..
    and I cannot allow that.

We do what we have to do in love, babe. I was not going to let you
slip through the cracks, so I did what I did. Tend to that gorgeous
garden of yours passionately--  wildly-untethered within the
beautiful parameters of full-on abandon. Love is finding its
wonderful way into places and parts within you  that have

   previously remained alone and cold..
   outside of its warm,  healing light.

Your gorgeously nectar-laden body is a beautiful, fully trembling..
and at times, wonderfully gushing temple of worship, celebration
and praise of the fascinating, permeating.. and often
(as you so righteously well know)
a deeply and passionately-thrusting   *******
of the Universe's finest  and warmest ways--
even when done tenderly.

The beautiful nature of  Love's full-on core ache will not let go of
you until it has fully coated every now deeply-craving cell within
that juice-filled, wildflower body of yours..  so yes.. come wildly
within it all, sweet girl. Your beautiful, deep, body-convulsing
******* are such a wonderfully-integral part   of  

  what is
helping you,  to become free.

They are not inappropriate or unloving or unfaithful to your
relational home-life.. if there is anything inappropriate, it is me..

   for speaking to you this way.    (lala)

But it has been so touch and go for you
that I now have no idea not to.
I will bite my tongue and withhold   from you
the powerful effect it all is having  
even right this  moment,  on me.
All's I can say right now is that I am glad  that you
have made it through this latest plunge into the pit.
The thought of it all working out for you  (so far)
truly does make me smile. :)

Keep feeling the comforting containment of the Wind, beauty.

xoxo  (ping.)

~**** R
preston Mar 14

I remember when I first got a glimpse of your magic,
even though you at that time had just been so horribly
knocked down by the worst news a daughter would   ever
want to hear.

Even then you had a glow worth fighting for,
and gifts such as yours are irrevocable--
you can never ever lose them,
and no one can ever take them away.

Pain, and the struggle's inevitable numb makes it all
so hard to see and feel the good. I somehow knew
that a beautiful girl wasn't  going to make it   even
in to the next day if someone didn't tell her
that they could see that she was barely hanging on by a thread..

and that she was so tremendously worth fighting for.

All I did back then was simply just tell you the truth.
And though sometimes your difficulties make them  feel
so far away--   your gifts are still with you..
And as the sun comes up each day, anew
so will the glow, you once felt so strongly
within you.

I am thankful that you are alive, beauty.

And as for the good old days,
and for all of the incredible magic--
your best is yet to come.

the pursuit of excellence
Mar 8 · 226
preston Mar 8

There is a stream
  in our theme,
a  river that flows through us--
that stream is us.

In the stream, whose name is
"All it is that We Are",
there  is a continuity--  
a common ground  
in  everything that the
    stream contains;

    it is ours,
    our substance-- our essence.
    .   .

Place your hand
into your stream
and feel
    who it is that you are,
and know that as you do,
every part    of
what it is that  m o i s t e n s
your arm  

    is that which is of you..
        you are   t a n g i b le.

The stream is yours--
    who.  you.  are.  
ever-flowing, yet tangibly  felt
at any given time.

This stream, also aptly named
"Substance of Being"--    from
beginning to end  contains
    within it
    all of what it is that is yours--

      and yours alone.
      .   .   .    

Jump, beautiful one--
right smack dab  into
the middle of it, and
feel yourself  in its entirety--

        beginning to end,

with no beginning that can be seen
and no end.. save the vast sea--  
the  beautiful final destination  
  of all streams.

    .   .   .   .  

  Feel yourself flow in it
  and know it is you--

  bank to bank;
    the stream is you.
Mar 4 · 199
preston Mar 4

There was this one bench we
used to sit on with our legs
Do you remember that-- how
we used to look down at our feet
as we swung them
back and forth?

I did so well--
       until I would look up at those eyes.

You said that when two people
care about each other
their feet should swing in unison.
I was too embarrassed to tell you
the truth--

   that every time I looked in your eyes
   my legs would go numb.

I tried to tell you then that
nerds weren't supposed to look
the way that you do.

Even now I look at your picture
      you left with me--

           and my legs go numb all over again.

And one more time I try to forgive myself.

Nerds aren't supposed to look like that.
It says that--
         somewhere in the manual
      it does.

                               I think.

preston Feb 21

Dirt poor  and
down trodden,
he didnt ask for this
this life  among the fallen--

My fuckerface,  he paid his dues
among the homes of the forgotten

Scandinavian/Cherokee was his pa
(tho not for long)
Crow Creek Sioux and German,  his ma..

and all along the Rosebud rez
his half-breed skin,  rubbed raw.

Ah,  my beautiful  sweet fuckerface--
you are  the finest  blood-brother
of them all.

Now the hardness of this world  slowly
grinds your dreams away
Making a fool's joke
out of the promises we make
And what once seemed black and white
turns to so many shades of gray
We lose ourselves in work to do,
work to do and bills to pay
And it's a ride, ride, ride,
and there ain't much cover

With no one running by your side,
my blood brother

On through the houses of the dead
past those fallen in their tracks
Always moving ahead
and never looking back
Now I don't know how I feel,
I don't know how I feel tonight
If I've fallen 'neath the wheel,
if I've lost or I gained sight
I don't even know why,
I don't know why I made this call

Or if any of this matters anymore, after all

But the stars are burning bright
like some mystery uncovered
I'll keep moving through the dark
with you--

in my heart,  my blood brother

Feb 14 · 359
invasive species.
preston Feb 14


                                                     ­                                 ..

                          ­                 (:

"The fiery stuff of all my ability to will seethes tremendously, all that I might do circles around me, still without actuality in the world, flung together and seemingly inseparable, alluring glimpses of powers flicker from all the uttermost bounds:

the universe is my temptation, and I achieve being in an instant, with both hands plunged deep in the fire, where the single deed is hidden, the deed which aims at me—

     now is the moment!

Already the menace of the abyss is removed, the centreless Many no longer plays in the iridescent sameness of its pretensions; but only two alternatives are set side by side—
the other, the vain idea,
and the one, the charge laid on me.

       But now realization begins in me.

For it is not decision to do the one and leave the other a lifeless mass, deposited layer upon layer as dross in my soul...
but he alone who directs the whole strength of the alternative into the doing of the charge, who lets the abundant passion of what is rejected invade the growth to reality of what is chosen—he alone who “serves God with the evil impulse” makes decision, decides the event. If this is understood, it is also known that this which has been set up, towards which direction is set and decision made, is to be given the name of upright; and if there were a devil it would not be one who decided against God,

--but one who, in eternity, came to no decision."
~M Buber
Feb 10 · 1.3k
gathering of the flowers
preston Feb 10

Don't speak directly to her--
you will melt the skin  off
  her bone-frame

Instead, find the parallel-words--

ones that will float alongside her
as she walks, so as she is able-
she can pluck them--  like
wild roses along the highway

Sometimes, love takes a
amount of creativity--

the name of the game is
  its destination
not the control of its path

Feb 7 · 210
preston Feb 7
Stephan W

Swirling dust,  ******
from on top of the Earth's crust
a twirling storm:   with
   no way to conform--
       there are heart-parts
         strewn everywhere.

Chaos, fully-seen
from the duststorm-like

   I conclude it from Hell

and conjure the foul smell
of a harm-immersed agenda--
met with the perpetual plea..

    of nolo contendere.

And of course--
God is a god of Peace..  

My discernment held-fast--
I will not rescind;   tho
something tells me  the
duststorm is mere wind

returning  me
back to me
and again

And forever  telling me
that the wind is my friend.

preston Feb 1

Need it reign this  supreme
over us--  death's ****** up message..

do we lay down
and let its shadowed ways
continue to run over the top of us--
the way that it has,
since flesh-wrapping's  first advent?

My beautiful, broken-one  deserves a chance--
may my whole world  be of that
which most,  brings her hope.

My beautiful,  sweet young:
so very, unfairly stung
by that which steals the mind away
into the shadows of insanity

in and through the injustice-sufferings--
gifted, from an unholy company
of a light-dimming,  buffering

  these dealers of this ****..

dispensers, all
of this death   of the spirit;
these  forever  unholy
robbers,  of the Glory

that was always

meant to be, our own.

the renewing of your beautiful
war-torn mind will come to you
in and through,  the healing light of perspective
Jan 30 · 326
the dude loved her
preston Jan 30

Johnny in black
a girl's heart attack--
his perfect-guitarred-croon
made all them girls swoon

and for her...
              her name was June

A stint in prison
for freedom-- the reason
dude learned his lesson
came back to sing-them

and brought along a girl
                                 named June

A ring of fire
his heart's desire
no line to walk
when you walk the talk

Johnny simply had a thing
                                       for June.

And through his heart
though worlds apart
she saw what was true
and it carried them through--

that beautiful view of Johnny
                                              in June.
there was hurt in it too
all things-- covered
    in blue

all because Johnny
                    loved June

there's somethin about a man in black..

Jan 26 · 342
preston Jan 26

now, befuddled
tell me  once again

why any-one  would
want  to  return here?

And what did a child do
that was so wonderful
as to be brought back  

into a world,  so cruel..
so horribly  inhumane?

Oh, but let me believe in it
let me embrace the thought
of returning  again

and again
and again

to subject my own
young, tender innocent spirit..  
      to what?

Or  just as bad--
grow up to be
bitter.. war-torn worn

only to have  to
face it all again,
in order  to overcome?

No, leave me to die   in this one.
And if asked to  return
I will self-annihilate

rather than come back
to this dishonest  *******
ever, again.

bless the beasts and the children

Jan 19 · 290
preston Jan 19
Selmhem Naise

Ive been thinking--
and theres
I just cant  shake off

its your eyes
    they give you away
  and its your very own  smile
    that they betray

They carry in them
  a cry
in almost  every
picture of you I see

    Your smile is genuine
    but your eyes dont agree
    .. and you have  no
    idea   what it is doing to me

I picture your life
with a fullness
of its own

So why do my  eyes
well up with tears
when I look into  those
beautiful spheres of yours?

Im not such a fool
to think its about me
but the pull  I feel  to
hold you close--

why cant I let that go?

For your sake I  try
to keep it all to myself, now

as I glance up and
smile at you--

   truth-hidden  behind
   cheap sunglasses

preston Jan 18

After picking her beautiful
jaw  up, off the ground
over the shock-blast of  realizing
that  she (after all of these years)
   had been  finally seen..

there was a shuffling  noise
that I could hear in the background
over the phone..

and I couldn't tell  if it  was her--

scrambling to finish  filling out
the restraining order she started
last week

or maybe  
just  flopping around  in the dark
in her search for the block button

But perhaps..  just perhaps
she is running upstairs  to find  for herself,  
a dry pair of *******

Or better yet,  in order to
race into her room,  her clothes--
strewn,  in a wake behind her
in her overwhelming  need

to knock out  a whole series  of
wildly uncontrollable, release (s)

Strange how it is
that  far too often  these things
can go either way--
yet either way, sweet love

your beautiful jaw
will never again,  be the same

you're welcome
preston Jan 16
Selmhem Naise

Remember the movie
the first one?
Sarah was being hunted
and Kyle was sent back
in time
to protect her from
the machine-made Terminator

  whose only purpose in life was to end hers.

How was he to know that
when he entered into her world;
    he was going to fall so deeply?
And without his entrance
into her life--  he
would have no reason
to come across time for her--
the fruit of their love
would have never been born--

the very reason
for the very reason  of the killer's mission.

To try to figure out
and understand
where this perpetual cycle
of love began,  would
bog the mind--
    all that can be done
    is acceptance
    or rejection
         of that love.

         Yeah, but what a love it was--
          Kyle came across time for her.

and for her,  he crossed over multiple Realms.

Jan 15 · 765
meeting Sarayu
preston Jan 15

She moved towards me
with an  unparalleled
and in doing so,
poured Living water  over
an ancient, Jezebelian wound--
  still bleeding;
  cut-- deeply

across  my battle-scarred chest.

in a timeless,  ancient world;
the healing she brought  to me
b e c a m e
a healing  for all mankind--
and through
the healing of woman-kind;

as she   b r e a t h e d   out to me
   a kiss,
along the edge of
a faint scar-line;

the one  that
just above my hip--
gave hint..

of a missing rib.

“He had a difficult time focusing on her; she seemed almost to shimmer in the light and her hair blew in all directions.. even though there was hardly a breeze. It was almost easier to see her out of the corner of his eye than it was to look at her directly."
~The Shack
Jan 11 · 298
preston Jan 11
Beautiful gouls, they seem
to be,  as they shuffle  
along the walkway,
late at night.  Hooded
and unassuming..
sometimes,  barely seen
avoiding possibly,  even
the pain  that the very light
of day, can so very often  bring.

There is a horrible  undoing
of what once  was
in order to leave  for them
what now is.

And when
there was a gold
to be found
in these hills  of black..
the non-ancestral  hearts  
that so clearly, lack

the humanity that tried to stop
the very same thing  that had
happened  in the east:

    the crave  for gain
    caused these tears of pain--
    and a glympse into the true
    nature  of the beast.

No more songs of the hunters
on the buffalo plain,
no more smoke from sacred fires
touch these hills.
And the numbers of the people
grow fewer every mile
and our children will not learn
Great Spirit's ways.

On the streets of Rapid City,
on the road to Wounded Knee,
there is whiskey for forgetting
every thing.
But the old ones say
there may be time
of learning from each other
the way that it had once
been meant to be.

But there is still a trail of tears,
there is still a trail of pain.
Jackson has got the Mississippi
and the twenty-dollar bill
but for us  
the trail of tears is all
that will remain.
Jan 7 · 293
preston Jan 7
D Zwieble

Remember the story,
about the beautiful-hearted girl,
trapped in the ship,  sinking..

     and how he saw her--
    through the porthole,

        made his way through it,

                            and saved her--

by pressing his mouth to hers
so that she could  become  able to breathe,
as she finally exited the ship

        and made her way back up
                               to the surface..

    He loved her enough
    to be her very air  at the time she
      needed it most.
      He still loves her.

      I always will.

"ouch, I have lost myself again
lost myself and I am nowhere to be found
Yeah, I think that I might break
lost myself again and I feel unsafe

Be my friend, hold me
wrap me up, unfold me
I am small, I'm needy
warm me up, and breathe me"
~My so very..
preston Jan 2

-- and just for being me..
I began

           the fall  
   of the homeless,ly- free.
And now the only hard-one
is the rock  
my head  hit on--
    there was   I ;;

a long-lost forest
who now for-got,     how to run..

OK, here we go, we got a real pressure cooker going here,
Two down, nobody on, no score, bottom of the ninth,
There's the windup, and there it is, a line shot up the middle,
Look at him go. This boy can really fly! He's rounding first and really
Turning it on now, he's not letting up at all, he's gonna try for
Second; the ball is bobbled out in center, and here comes the
Throw, and what a throw! He's gonna slide in head first, here he
Comes, he's out! No, wait, safe-safe at second base, this kid
Really makes things happen out there. Batter steps up to the
Plate, here's the pitch-he's going, and what a jump he's got,
He's trying for third, here's the throw, it's in the dirt-safe at
Third! Holy cow, stolen base! He's taking a pretty big lead out
There, almost daring him to try and pick him off. The pitcher
Glances over, winds up, and it's bunted, bunted down the third
Base line, the suicide squeeze is on! Here he comes, squeeze
Play, it's gonna be close, holy cow, I think he's gonna make it!

"Stop right there!
I gotta know right now
before we go any further..
Do you love me?
(Will you love me forever?)
Do you need me?
(Will you never leave me?)
Will you make me so happy for the rest of my life?
Will you take me away and will you make me your wife?
Do you love me!?
(Will you love me forever!?)
Do you need me!?
(Will you never leave me!?)
Will you make me happy for the rest of my life!?
Will you take me away and will you make me your wife!?
I gotta know right now
Before we go any further--

Do you love me!?
Will you love me forever!?"

Let me sleep on it
Baby, baby let me sleep on it..
Let me sleep on it

and I'll give you an answer
in the morning..

(It never felt so good
It never felt so right
And we were glowing like
the metal,  on the edge of a knife..)

there's just not enough rocks
preston Dec 2020

"From the days of John the Baptist until now,
the kingdom of heaven has been advancing forcefully..
and the violent, seize it by force."



By 'his scrawny little neck' she grabs him
and  pulls  Him,  from  his  Throne--
"******' know it all..  he don't know ****.."
blurts out  she--

the all-seeing,  ever defining one.

The paint on her war-brush
is the blackest of blacks..
as she  brands  me for

      the  o r b it i ng   of her
      that  I  so clearly  lack

And an ability that is all hers,
not mine--
      The one, self-given..
      the  power  to define.

And, she wonders where mine came from;
me-- who was once a mother's son..
As I  ******  the grown-up  a l l  of me
into every  unhealed  part of her
      that  f e e l s   just like dear-old Mom.

I was young once, my beautiful
helplessly.. (almost hopelessly)  subject,  to it all
        --but no more,   my sweet
          ever-painting,  honeybee..
That black, babe-- it don't stick
                         no,  not no more.

Ah, Baby..
   ...   can you hear me..?

For forty days and nights Pete rode and did not stop
till he sat high upon an icy mountaintop
He watched the hawk on a desert updraft, slip and slide

Moved to the edge..
and dug his spurs  deep into his pony's side

Some say Pete and his pony vanished over the edge,
and some say they remain frozen--
high up on that icy ledge.

The young Navajo girl washes in the river,  skin so fair
and braids a piece of Pete's buckskin chaps into her hair

I'm Outlaw Pete..
Outlaw Pete,

-- can you hear me?
Dec 2020 · 454
preston Dec 2020

These rocks--
round,  not suitable for skipping
centuries of rolling along
the stream's flow--  all
the edges ground smooth
in the most ancient of ways.

These ones making walking difficult--
when one rock doesn't fit well with others
it rolls
and shifts;  not
wanting to find its   place
with the other rocks, making
footing unsure--       unstable.

I see this one;  there--
unconcerned with the fit.
has an edge or two--
as of yet  not ground smooth.
It stands out--  not
for the safety of step it can provide,
but for it's utter uniqueness--

               a stone like no other;
     with it's almost chosen-rough edges.

I want that one-- right there.

                         That one.

Dec 2020 · 412
parallel worlds..
preston Dec 2020
Selmhem Naise

Too much pain in this one
it's no longer fun--  no
not so fun.
Another world--  with
another Sun
    where I can run.

I just want to run in the Sun.

But it can't be too far from
this one,  so
I make a parallel one--
with a parallel Sun.

Where I can have fun--
                                   as I run.

In the safe one,  I
can run,
and in the parallel Sun
my parallel fun--

                   I run in both.

preston Dec 2020

Wheels cranking
gears clanking

a precision machine  that
would make the
   Terminator's ***** rust wi-....

Silly little spilly
open-mouthed hippy-filly-  yappin,
   all *****-nilly

A crane in
your brain to
keep thoughts   sane--

but you talk so   funny
through that smile; and
     your heart--
it is melting your   mental

  How do you always  find
a way to speak to me
through it all?

And I'm still  trying  to
figure out  how
all that brilliance
fits into your pretty little head

You must sometimes get
beyond all recognition--

and the  only way
you can deal with it all
is to find  new ways  to
   b r i n g   it to us

        without us  even knowing.

Youre not quite ready yet:
   and so..  in your creativity--
y o u  don't walk from your machine-  

    we do;
every time  we walk towards you.

for our love
for our fear

for our rise
against the years and year and years

preston Dec 2020
D Vanlandingham

Death only has power  when entwined with flesh;
as it is the pathological.. and its need to be propped up
--which is all there is   to embrace the illusion.
Yet, no flesh can stand  before the Face
and so  is burned-off  in an instant

now, with nowhere left to hide--  
the hidden..  becomes, fully known.
                   (the illusion,  and it's deception)

And so  separated,  (but not really)
all things  known
will eventually be brought  back home--

A boat, now empty of its captives~
the last to step off;   shining bright,

                         as the Morning Star

Pleased to meet you--
hope you guessed my name,  ah yeah
'Cause what's confusing you,
is just the nature of my game

[When all things are subjected to him,
then the son himself will also be subjected to him
who put all things in subjection under him,
..that God may be all in all.]

"Tell me, baby.. what's my name.."
Dec 2020 · 114
preston Dec 2020
D Vanlandingham

Never more clear to me, than when the  rusted gate,
swung open  did I see the  great fullness, in the value
of choice  to suffer oneself into a place of substance--
forces pulling at me, unfelt.. realms crossed over into,

When she opened up her heart to me..
all Hell, broke loose

and I cant help, but wonder  if I was dreaming
preston Dec 2020

For ones like you and I,
that is the only way to choose to live
if we are to even to be able to survive.
You are by far one of the most difficult
people I have ever met, but also one of
the ones that I have had the deepest
level of hope for. And that is not
necessarily because of the depth of
love that I have felt for you, but more
because of the unique nature of that
heart of yours, and the things that you
have had to endure thus far in this world.

I will never not feel a million
different things when I think of you,
but even when I am most frustrated
and angry over all of the difficult
moments, never do I not feel such a
fascinating level of hope for you on
your behalf. I long for the day when
the system of survival that you have
had to learn in order to be able to
make it in this world thus far no
longer is something that holds your
spirit back from truly soaring
the way that it was fully meant to.  
One day all of this will come together for you..

      I believe that with all of my heart.


I'm sorry I'm such an imperfect  mess in your world.
Love is such an amazing thing--

in a world that we have had
to survive in
because,  it  early on,
had so much of  a lack of it.

For me towards you
it becomes overwhelming,
and I'm completely unable to contain it..

and everything about me
that is less, than
and more, than
makes itself known..
completely unfiltered.

I know it doesn't feel that way to you so very often, but you're going to make it. You really are. xoxo
Dec 2020 · 192
preston Dec 2020
D Vanlandingham

Boundless, in its ability to extend beyond all forms of containment;
the big circle contains within it, the little one
and if it is true relationship through genuine volition of the beloved
that is to be desired most of all,
then spirit, wrapped in flesh is the autonomy most needed
in order for the dream to become true.
Spirit is being.
Spirit cloaked in flesh is being--
feeling its relationship with its own self.
Spirit, mastering its own flesh by reigning in  its emotions  along
with the synaptic-firing of every one of its nerve endings into full
submission of the spirit's own core nature, is the root-basis of all true volition.
Spirit, in its raw form is perfect-- wholly unable to undergo
corruption, or decay..

but the flesh..
the flesh,
Always needing to substantiate itself through its never-ending layers
of self-promotion  apart from the realities of its own spirit's  core.

Yet,  pure love--
wholly unable to see itself as that which is to be rejected,
enters in to the very act of the rejection, itself;
that autonomy may  continue to contain the uncorrupted core--
     and the smaller circle becomes established:
     smaller.. yes.. but in truth,
its parameters self stretch all the way out to those of the bigger one
And so, with the necessary advent of autonomy
into the relational equation,    comes also
The necessary advent of God's wholly-volitional
self-depletion of God.. entering,  in to it all
so that, in time, God alone might take the full brunt
of rejection's unjust hit--

in its autonomous movement  away
from its own incorruptible core..
away,  from its own true self.

So, follow the smaller circle, if you will, my beautiful--
either way, you are still following God.

"where can I go from your spirit?
or where can I flee from your presence?
If I ascend to heaven, you are there;
if I make my bed in Hades, behold, you are there.
If I take the wings of the dawn,
if I dwell in the remotest part of the sea,
even there your hand will lead me,
and your right hand will lay hold of me.

If I say, “Surely the darkness will overwhelm me,
and the light around me will be night,”
Even the darkness is not dark to you,
and the night is as bright as the day..

Darkness and light are alike to you."
~The kingdom of Dave
Nov 2020 · 180
preston Nov 2020
Stephan W

Muse-induced,  I slip
into a dreamstate--

                      I am floating.

Third-heaven bound,  I am
caught up into  a
galaxy-pull,  cloud hidden
I am bent around objects--
    the very empirical nature  of
    light itself,
drawn into an orbit  that,
always mine--  had
    been waiting for me all along

                          I am home now--

                   Away from this pain
           Away from  death's  stain
  ..away from all of my inabilities

I am alive
I am awake to the trials
and confusion we create
There are times when I feel
the way we're about to break
when there's too much to say

We are home now
out of our heads
out of our minds
out of this world

out of this time
out of this time
Nov 2020 · 247
preston Nov 2020
Stephan W

The key turns,
and each tumbler falls into its
pre-honed slot

There is an infinite magic
in  her world of words--
her heart finds them
through special agreement,

as the door opens wide;  no
resistance at the hinge,
and it is at that very moment  that she
everything that she has.

Her relationship with eternity--  it
calls me to her.
I want to be near her--

    be her friend..

And with both hands,  brazenly
touch the hem of her garment--
slide  it  off  of  her;

      share..   in the eternal.

in her eternal
Nov 2020 · 116
preston Nov 2020

She clutches her heart
with both hands
in hopes that he will not see it;
(But hearts like hers--
they cannot be held back; and
who it is that she is cannot be hidden),

but it instead was built to be out there--
right out into the light of day.

Her fingers look so cute as they
work so hard to hold the view of her in--
she oozes out between fingers
in the most beautiful of ways.
And with a heart like hers--
even that which tries to contain it
becomes beautiful--

she seeps out
through the most beautiful of fingers.
some things you just can't hide
preston Nov 2020
Stephan W

She said, with a quietly-kind heart--

"Please, sir.. just promise me that you
will always be there.."

And so i was.. in my own limited fashion.
Time went on, and she-- thought that i,

like all the others.. had just moved on.

but I never did.
with ones like her, I never do

no need to.

blessed are the meek..
for they shall inherit the earth

:) <3 xo
preston Nov 2020

They carry the fullness of the godhead
in ******-form, they do:
each and every one of them

and suffer for that burden, they will
these--  the broken ones
the fallen ones

the struggling ones
Nov 2020 · 195
preston Nov 2020
Selmhem Naise

She stands at its edge
looking back

looking into.

Who is ‘unafraid’ enough
to come near the edge;
Her searching eyes ask
as she looks back.

You see you, girl—
through my eyes
as I see how alone you are
at the edge of it.

I am you also—
standing at the edge.

Is there enough
love in this world
to swallow up this fear?
Apparently there is

tho often
only seen

    from the edge.

oh Mary
you have seduced my soul..

forever a hostage
of your child's world
Oct 2020 · 132
preston Oct 2020

You remember..
  and you know it

you were  on
the swing
  and I walked up to you

You were too young then—
not yet quite in high school
and I was not yet old enough
  to drive

  but old enough to know better

Still.. I needed you to know
so I walked up to the swing—
the one at the park- on
your way to school

and I stopped you  mid swing
and I gazed into your eyes
by grabbing the only thing
that made your swing,  swing--

          the  c h a i n s.

  They bring  you forward
  as you keep trying
but the they're fastened  too

       to keep you from flying..

          the very thing
       you have always wanted to do

For way too long
we've settled for these lies
when so much more
has been waitin' on the other side
I think it's time
we crossed this river so wide
leave these shores--  step off the edge

leave it all behind

Cut loose..  cut loose the ties
let go,  let it go:
fly,   fly

you can fly..
preston Oct 2020
Selmhem Naise

Keep writing
about the
because your way of
describing it
is a description all its own.

In the magic of your words
you are able to somehow make
the intangible almost feel
as though it can become tangible.

And for myself-- It takes all
I have to keep from being
drawn-in too deeply into
your words. I do best
by letting the words
all but destroy me; so
that there's not a lot left of me
(my-destructive side)  to
bring itself to the table.

The destruction I feel-  there's
an immediate tearing down of

and an instantaneous building up
of hope and celebration--

    the true  deeper side of me
    absolutely digs that ****.
Ya true story.

Oct 2020 · 156
becky boo
preston Oct 2020

Keep letting the words of your own writes
have their way with you-- let them climb
all over you and 'destroy' you  with the
love-message they carry within them.

People who read and feel your writes
will respond from their heart, and in those
responses, you are no longer alone--  you
then carry a piece of them with you that the
expression of your own heart has created.

    There is a magic in that kind of healing.

The words of others back towards you
become alive in your own heart  as the
realness of it all comes to you
                        in a moment's flash.

That is what is called the living word..
and also the healing light of relationship.
Know that, friend--

    that is what is healing you.

I don't mind spendin' everyday
out on your corner, in the pourin' rain
Look for the girl with the broken smile
ask her if she wants to stay awhile

and she will be loved,
and she will be loved

Oct 2020 · 295
notes about the sea
preston Oct 2020
Stephan W

I have seen you there,
standing alone, along the shoreline
    --if you only knew--
Your thoughts- a poetic buffering,
spoken out- onto weathered paper,
through trembling hands;  words
let in to the ocean wind--
the dreams of your heart, the needs,
ah, yes.. the deep needs of your heart...

    among these rocks,
    you are always alone.

At the tip of your fingers-- the small ridges;
fragmental, yet monumental imprints, etched
in to you, the moment your spirit entered
your temple. They tell the world of your story:
through fine, texture-perception, you feel it--
your trembling fingers grip the pen, expressing,
conveying your truth into a world that does not
hear.. a shallowing, that deafens..

    You glance at your fingertips--
    to assure, you're really there
    ~ ~

(The sea has picked up a bit, now
the waves, crashing against the rocks
rocks, that still won't hear..)

And here also, outlined
within the warm beat of the
human heart,
there is a sound that can be heard--
one similar to the aliveness
of the crashing waves.
Place your fingertips against those
that are real-
the sound blends-in perfectly
with the sea
as the uniqueness of imprinted ridge,
moves up against that of the other--
contrasting, here.. fitting together
perfectly, there..

    Scream, "I am!" to the sea; and see, love..
    scream it out, and see.
    ~ ~ ~

I am everywhere near you-- encouraging,
celebrating.. at times, weeping;  hands
outstretched, the uniqueness of my
own finger prints, longing
Along this shoreline, I have watched you
for an eternity, hoping
that you might somehow take it all, in.
Clouds beckon, asking again for the
earth's moisture

      and I respond,  e v ap o r a t i ng.

      ~ ~ ~ ~

Your small, beautiful feet, now
all pigeon-toed- now, standing
at the water's edge; as the
rain cloud gives up its prize
just beyond the breakers--

    (my imprint remains,
    but I am of the sea now..)

    Wade into me, love
    that I may wrap myself around you:
    Along this shoreline,
    may you never be alone again.

The voices in the wind,
will take you home again,

the journey home has just begun, my friend

The magic in your eyes,
was more than I surmised
and I surrender time and time, again

To the will of the wind;
the will of the wind, child
The wind in the wind chimes,
takes you home again..

the will of the wind
dancing, dancing..  dancing

this one always makes me cry
preston Oct 2020

Is it asking  too much
to want to hide away  safely?
I never should have met you

yet, I have been  looking
for you all of my life--


You are in me now
so deep;  our spirit's gears  perfectly
synced- each gear a pre-honed..
  precision fit--
                even when we clash

                Especially-  when we clash;
                and somewhere,
                in the depths of  my love

                I hate you for that

      In a broken world...
      dreams were  n e v e r  meant
      to come true.

      I think I read that  somewhere,
      or maybe someone told me..


              or something.

Oct 2020 · 275
preston Oct 2020
Stephan W

My beauty is resisting the worldly pull-- to
slip into lethargic un-consciousness,
in order to no longer feel the anxiety
brought about by non-response to the
primal-question's asking,

But instead is choosing to feel it all-- and in
doing so- it, is costing her everything.
She is showing us all what true courage is about,
suffering for the greater good:
for that which is within herself
for her children
for all womankind-- and therefore, for all of man-kind also.
She is the firstfruits of the Universe's
deepest dream; that of a full restoration,
allowing herself to be cut-open, internal parts, rearranged,
heart regenerated, rebuilt through love's magical ways
her mind, being renewed through understanding,
repetition of love's true ways, washing it clean
from the shame unfairly pressed upon her
by the broken, fallen love of man

She is the new Eve-- this beautiful-one,
free from the need to re-create what love is--
she is open, believing.. her beautiful receptors-
perfectly aligned with the harmonic-tones
emanating from the garden, as she walks.

And I.. Adam, love her deeply.
There is an ache with in my side-- a reminder
of my consent of its removal
so that I would no longer have to be so alone in all this magic
and as I struggle, taking in all that is beautiful about her,
I see now that she was not produced from me,
the man

But that I was the oyster,
and she, the beautiful pearl--
the one beyond all price,
the shimmering diamond-- formed,
within this lovestrong lump of coal;

over millions, and millions of years.

I sit in awe as I watch her
she has been worth every moment
of the wait.

"Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth;
for the first heaven and the first earth passed away,
and there is no longer any sea;
And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem,
coming down out of heaven from God,

made ready as a bride adorned for her husband.
..and God himself will be among them.

And he will wipe away every tear from their eyes;
and there will no longer be any death;
there will no longer be any mourning, or crying, or pain;

--the first things have passed away.”
preston Oct 2020

"What,  you just love me
and then move on..
is that what you do?"

They weren't steps away from her
they were paces

and in an instant, the arrow flew

There is a seam,  
if you are able to see
as there are terracotta dreams
from which

we were  all  meant to be freed

Broken shards  fell to the ground
and inside of every single piece

     is all of the 'hers'
     she thinks that  she needs to be

Not sure if it is the aim
or  the flight  of the arrow
that brings about the aloneness
of an unspeakable,  heart sorrow
and these.. the sufferings of hell.

     Chloe is not dead--
     because  left standing
     when all else fell
     is her spirit's core,  now glowing
     no longer hidden  
     within the confines
     of her terracotta shell

Ah, beautiful Chloe
baby, there were times..

                remember knowing?
      The water-well;
      its  never-ending flowing

      Believe again in that, my beautiful

         not  the shell.

Anything is better than this hatred.
I'm looking forward   to
an eternity spent in hell.

it's a broken kinda feeling..

Oct 2020 · 218
preston Oct 2020
the forming of substance 07
Stephan W


Within the void  are
the greatest mysteries of the universe,
as matter and anti-matter clash;
only to create a newfound energy..
un-owned, unaccountable, unconcerned--
the energy emerging from the clash negates itself
through mutual annihilation; leading to an increase
of space between what it is that is lit; and in
the accelerated rate of expansion of this space,
Illuminated/illuminating  matter takes on the risk
of being removed from participatory perception,
or better said-- to a place beyond retrieve..

and so it is also-
within the void of space that exists within us;
the galaxy-within--
ever-swinging in polarity between the gravity-pull
of illuminating/illuminated substance,
and the ever-distancing properties of
an unowned, unlit space...
dark Energy-- a repulsive force,
attempting to quantify the space between
all that truly matters--
yes.. creating space,
and therefore more room
for it to engage into its ever-increasing
chaotic activity.. quantitatively participating in
its fine art of distraction, dilution
and extortion of time
through nothing other than the negation of matter,
and therefore, the negation of potentiality--
of substance, and so also
the transmission of light.. luminosity:

      parts within the heart, lit up with
      and by the infusion of our own spirits,
      through the beautiful act of volition,

of which, the countless galaxies in the universe
exist as a type, given.. (what-if)...
if only to encourage us through amazing,
mesmerizing example--
surrounded, each.. by a circumference of support
of the dark matter of potentiality--
providing the gravity of containment,
solely in and through its belief in its own possibility,
giving way to its utter inability to deny itself to
what has become already lit,
becoming then.. not only a defining part of the galaxy,
but also a gravitational-formed hedge of protection
against the everpull-entropy of the repulsive force--
of all that is unaccountable-
in its velocity-based separation from volition.

      And, so it is with the universe,
      so, also.. the universe-within;
      Having left its glass-globe sphere,

      this spirit-centered cosmos
      now unfolds, within skin.

A greater value there can never be shown--
than, that the whole universe would be created
as to be an encouragement/celebration
for even one single soul.

Oct 2020 · 137
preston Oct 2020
the forming of substance 06
Stephan W

the true nature of the beast

It  c h o se
to consider itself
made complete--
in its own self-- apart
from relationship,
from connection..
a p a rt  from   a n y
attachment to glory

And so,
it found itself
from with-inside itself
made complete

in its own  utter incompleteness.

~  ~
Beings-- created for
growth- back in to into glory
were built to be
made complete
and so it roams
the face of the Earth--
looking for ways to
complete itself..
an attachment.

~  ~  ~
Life, in itself
has a built-in safeguard
hedge of protection
in every-thing on Earth.

But we,
who have undergone
severe trauma
at a young age
have had that  h e d ge
torn from us
as the  d i s m em b e r i ng
of our souls took place--
and so that which roams
searching for its
for its attachment...
then finds.

  and then attaches

lying to itself each
that it can gain
t h e   f i x
the indwelt-access-
back into perfection--
the one for it
that never-was
that never will-be--
its way back into glory.

It knows that,
so it attaches
with a vengeance.

~  ~  ~  ~

You, quisling--
only the power of
deception do
you have, ******.
You do not grieve
the loss of eternity--
because, for you-
it is unobtainable. ******
You do not feel the need
for Redemption
because, you  o n ly
know the word contempt.
And yet, wholly
unable to feel self-contempt,
you only know one action--

d e v o u r.

We will transcend
your attachment

your usury..

       your devouring--

Gnawing our bodies away from our spirits..
  a   d i s m e m b e r i ng--

making us believe
that is all we have ever known;
And making our bodies
a d d i c t ed  to you-
in whatever form
that may be
as if they were
built for nothing
but  y o u--

to prop up your own emptiness.

We will  f i l l  back up
with Love.

    And then you'll be the one
    who will be ******.

Love transcends all things..
even death's attachment

preston Oct 2020

I hate the thought of her dying without anyone easing her of the burden she is carrying. She was powerless over what was placed into her before you were born. Her world no longer understood the language of an untarnished spirit-- he made sure of that, so how could she possibly give to a little-one's purity of spirit.. when everything about yours back then, was completely foreign to the internal language she had to learn in order to just be able to survive.. especially when the one that made her become that way was still alive back then?

The help that I have known and that you also have available to you was only available in limited forms back then, so how could she not succumb to the only voice that she knew inside of her, when it came to love..

She does not know that gracious truth within her.. of how nearly completely unable he had made her become, so how could she ever know the necessary self-forgiveness that true self love provides, if someone doesn't make it known to her-- here, in the land of the living? She may never be able to handle the full truth..   but you will.

You were left alone to learn the same ****** up inner language from the very same ****** up man that taught her, hers. There is not an accountability here.. it was far too much to ask of her, that. His hold over her not only cost her the purity of her own, young inner-world.. but also that of her daughter's also--  in and through the unholy hold he had on her.

She does not have to own it..  it was all, too much..

But her daughter, who has known real love, now has enough of it inside of her to be able to metabolize the horrors of this multigenerational injustice, and put an end to it all, while his young victim, years before her  is still alive.

All you have to do is want to own it's horrible truth.. and then bring the healing light of forgiveness to her for what she cannot admit to-- but never, not feel. Your understanding will be as a healing balm to her, without even necessarily saying a word. Yes.. you and I do get into it, sometimes.. but you also have deeply known comfort for the affliction he so unfairly placed onto you.

It is that very form of comfort that she needs the most~

      "...the Father of mercies  and God of all comfort,  
      who comforts us in all our affliction..   so  that  we
      will be able to comfort those who are in any affliction
      with the comfort with which we, ourselves
      are comforted  by God.."

Please. Yes I deserve to be hated by you.. if do in fact you hate me, but I do really want you to hear me about her. It is for her, but really for her-- through you;  

     and therefore,  it is for you.

His stain will pass on from generation to generation,
until love and truth  finally, bring it all to an end.

if you are able to quiet yourself enough to feel it, you will see that you already have enough of that love and truth inside of you

and to your grandfather, this meme says it all..

Then keep ******* off.
******* until you come to a gate with a sign saying,
'you can't ******* past here'.

--Climb over the gate, dream the impossible dream,
and keep ******* off. Forever."

you forever ******-up, ******* ****
quos genueris impium dictitans congenita inordinationem
Oct 2020 · 385
lapis solaris
preston Oct 2020

.. and most definitely,  shaken
there is a transformation  

at the moment of  excitation;

And the dead  is  once again
brought back to life,
as previously stored energy
from   even   these  very   stones,
becomes  released  in varying forms of light

Poetry is not all fun and games
(or the incestuous pursuit  of one another)
you self-centered *******--
it is originally meant to be  the very place
where darkness itself,  becomes lit

    or in your case..
    it laughingly carries in its arms
    its mega-vat of sand--

the very sand many here,  so very much  love
to stick their heads in to.

Lapsis Solaris,  in HP terms:

The very sand will glow--  
every single grain of it
and your 'jovial', self-aggrandizing
little heads will burn..

or you will burrow in,  even deeper--
laughing,  laughing,  la--...

the world's getting awfully big in the window..

its no small wonder that I don't have many friends.  xo
Oct 2020 · 305
preston Oct 2020
the forming of substance 05
Stephan W

"But I will not drive them (the 'inhabitants') out in a single year,
because the land would become desolate
and the wild animals too numerous for you.
Little by little I will drive them out before you;

Until you have increased enough to take
possession of the land."

Within the sphere- formless and void,
there was all but nothing to inhabit.
Existing within the eternity of the moment,
unable to retain--
it could only experience.

It could behold perfection,
but not hold on to it;

No need..
perfection was ever-present--
In full view of the sphere
and the precious spirit- encased within,
now, wrapped within a living, breathing skin-
this body- for the spirit,
and the spirit for the one body

each part of the heart-- a city in itself.

.  .
Reaching across the chasm,
there is an almost symmetry in
the layout of the cities

     but their inhabitants are unruly

and the spaces between far too great
for any kind of order to become able to
break through the chaos--
there is no longer communication
between the cities.

There is a yearning for consolidated-Sovereignty,
but the cities have long forgotten themselves-
Strewn about.. in the pain of it all,
they no longer know each other.

.  .  .
But the spirit within the body-- it remembers.
There is a gathering back into wholeness-
and so we learn how to wait also.

Parts, and pieces-- members rebuilt-
little by little
Not too fast- take it easy;
70 years, maybe more.
Which way will it go-

There is a promised land;
waiting to be taken--

    one city at a time.

Oct 2020 · 173
preston Oct 2020
the forming of substance 04
Stephan W

"For years I’ve wanted to live
according to everyone else’s morals.
I’ve forced myself to live like everyone else,
to look like everyone else.
I said what was necessary to join together,
even when I felt separate.

And after all of this, catastrophe came.

Now I wander amid the debris,
I am lawless, torn to pieces,
alone and accepting to be so,
resigned to my singularity and to my infirmities.

And I must rebuild a truth–
after having lived all my life in a sort of lie."
~Albert Camus

Worlds apart,
there is a tension
an alienation--

now, strangers-
in a not so strange land

So many parts..
fighting the glow
fighting each other-

These parts, hiding--
From having to be seen- when needed,

From the pain of
having to need the other parts
who also are so unable,

From the visibility--
from having to be asked to join in-
to the process of
an integrated internal functioning;
the metabolizing of things.

From the pain of it all-
and the despondency that will come
from any attempt
         to even try.

~  ~
The spirit--
its dimly-lit distant memories
of a wholly different time

now afraid to ingrain itself
into a body- that is as of yet
wholly unable to even know itself--

Fragmented parts of the heart;
broken spirit,
a lonely longing-

There is a division
a separation
immersed in a dank mist of fear--

Parts-- nearly touching
but, so unable to see..

or even feel each other in the dark

And the greatest loneliness
becomes the one that is lived within oneself--

An unlived-living
within the broken internal-world
of fragmented parts-
now huddled into remote corners
with such large spaces in between;

parts, isolated from
other parts.

~  ~  ~
One day they will no longer be
so afraid of each other--

Even in its dimly-lit state of being,
the spirit yearns for a cohesiveness,
a wholeness--

      a re-integration of all the parts;

Until that time, everything will be partial;
dis- assembled


"The park is now empty and bare
with an abandoned shame about it--
the jungle gym, the slide, the swing
have all rusted together.
They're all so terribly alone now,
where did all the children go?

Didn't they know that the park needed them?

A child’s intelligent heart can fathom
the depth of many dark places,
but can it fathom the delicate moment
of its own detachment..”
~Henry Barthes
"Detachment" (2011)

Sep 2020 · 179
preston Sep 2020

In one fell swoop, spirit swung low to the ground
as flesh;  rose up from the dirt-clod soil to meet it

and then to receive  into it
it's self,  into a home  that can feel..

      the necessary infant-like growing

      as it learns how to integrate flesh and spirit
      as it takes in, love

      the necessary separation

      from love's human bonds.. its human bounds
      so that it can hold pure, its own integration

      the necessary return to love

      as it finds within the parameters  of its own, earth-borne flesh..
      limitations in its ability to aptly house its own spirit.

But sometimes
the flesh can become hurt  by a fallen form of love
which in turn, hurts its ability to integrate  itself with spirit
And so, it   feels within itself--

      the pathological need

      to manifest its own  perceived needs
      as having precedence over that of the spirit

      the pathological need

      for deception.. and self-aggrandizement, a word-formed image..
      a manufactured presentation of its own spirit's, integration

      the pathological need

      to shift the truth..  so that its own game  remains, intact
      to avoid the truth,  in order to perform its own kind of sweep

But there are those who overcome, in their  remembrance
of the sweep..   and the spirit, before flesh's  union
in the desire for spirit to become tangibly felt,  
here,  in the land of the living--

For love  to become made,  manifest
through the integration of flesh's death,  into life
so that spirit can finally tangibly  feel

    and then tangibly  choose

    its own access back in to life, leading directly to
    its own way  back home.

Things look so bad everywhere
in this whole world, what is fair?
We walk the line and try to see..
falling behind in what could be.

Bring me a higher love
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