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Satan thinks himself a god.

Subject
to
fate...

nothing else.
Inspiration from Paradise Lost by John Milton.
Literature
is
less
about
beauty
~
than
it
is
about
*Truth
Mimesis "To mirror"
Discussed this in my poetry class today; how art truly shows the condition of humanity, expressing the Truth of our existence and experiences on earth. The artist expresses Truth by reimagining the world, aiding the rest of us who are unable to articulate it.
That day you told me
you loved me eternally
I wept and tears fell

you, my oldest friend
yet, how I feel this chasm
separating us

I never once thought
you have carried love with you
since we were but kids.

Now I regret all
thoughts, behaviors, emotions,
which I poured on you

about other boys...
Oh, why did you not tell me!
this, your devotion!
There has been no other feeling
like the
accomplishment

of letting go of previous fault
and reconciling with the person.
Working toward being honest with myself and others about whom I have offended, reaching out and asking for forgiveness. But before I even got to this moment (that I thought I would never arrive to), I first got into the habit of being reconciled with God. This is a very happy accomplishment.
f you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
  But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
  Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
  And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
  If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
  And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
  Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
  And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
  And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
  And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
  To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
  Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
  Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
  If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
  With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
  And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son.
a certain accumulation of
desires that have simply overcome
my small (ever ever small)
being...
but i can't help but imagine
your defined body next to mine
mine lying next to your heart beat beat beat
hah hah hah hearts long lost
Could i sit here forever,
just to here that heart beat.
your heart beat.
desires have simply overcome.
Me.
and oh only christ can defend me,
how, how i desire for your lips on mine
your eye lash flutter
your distant thoughts bustle
your intelligence creeping
behind our curtains
don't act so repulsed
by my face in my moonlight,
if you had wished for a pristine certificate
you shouldv'e asked for an official v card
because you can unlace my blouse
if it's cold enough to display a
modern art form
and succumb to the scent of cashmere silk
against lavender dawns
outside our big class window
so i'll bite my tounge
because my desire for you is
stronger than a flame in the trail
the pressure to a point
the hello in a goodbye
lets pray for some good will
because i could get some duty done before God with you
oh, no no I'm not the desperate type.
just the type to take your suspenders off.
This is an oldie, but figured it would be fun to post!
baby
take out the record
i wanna step to the beat
wrap you up in my arms and
list the things i just
love about you
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