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#identification
Tank all your profiles, Cause they're tightening a snare. 𝘞𝘩𝘰 are you identifying? Are these my views? Is that my perspective? Is it 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦? Tank all your profiles, Cause it's harder to get ******* physical than digital. It's either a check or an x To be marked onto your square. A few fascists' dream Is a legislative nightmare.
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May 3, 2025
May 3, 2025 at 7:13 PM UTC
Online Misrepresentation
One simple thought Igniting a wildfire One match that turns A whole world upside down We can pretend that it's not there It will burn deeper Cause it doesn't care A domino effect That's hard to stop It's a blind spot No way to grasp it, Change it, Make it disappear... The more we fight, The stronger it'll persevere, The more alive it is, Contagious pain And identification Will keep on breaking trust And sending us Into a black hole Of intoxication.
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Jan 29, 2025
Jan 29, 2025 at 7:37 PM UTC
Intoxication
swollen with pride disturbed with emotion despised from arrogance endorsed with depression clinging, body and mind
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Aug 30, 2020
Aug 30, 2020 at 4:03 AM UTC
i me and mine
You are just a fool in the middle of a canvas, blocking images of the Light in your soul. Come along with it. Love your body and don't let it remain in despair. It will Thank you. See It & Respect It.
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Apr 14, 2018
Apr 14, 2018 at 8:17 AM UTC
Who are you?
night is falling,           falling,        falling the clouds rush to and fro, needless journeys with no end nor beginning scrolls of verbs written across the sky in messy tangles of confusion and stress and mayhem. wind picks up leaves and dances with them, but tethered they are and tethered they shall stay and the wind quickly finds the only companions that are his to keep for a while longer are birds and misplaced people wrapped in tinfoil. a noise echoes from far away singular ears strain toward the nothing that is something searching for more and more as something begins less and less to shine and the stars never rise from bed except to manifest themselves as wet teardrops from which everyone hides, sheltering himself, discouraging any future expression of weariness and quivering and loss. the tears meet the grass in a show of quiet surrender the grass turning to their nighttime lovers yearning, ever so much farther, to be reunited with another display of lacerated love from the shy sky and affected darkness i also regard myself to the stars’ seeking one lash of freezing acknowledgement, seeking one who knows what i feel down here seeking, if only because i am not everyone nor am i alone a stone, but i am the clouds, the stories, i am the wind, alone in joy and pain, i am the whisper from the mountains, never heard but always uttered, i am the stars, never seen but ever seeking, i am the rain, a magic, shunned by all but those who crave life, i am the grass, hoping in vain to meet to the one i love in joyful tandem, i am they, and they are i, and i sit in a seat to my left and shake as my soul is read from a paled paper hoping to the roots that someone who is not everyone might come out of their home and drink the sky with me.
0
May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 9:20 PM UTC
Happy Valley (ironic entitlement)
night is falling,           falling,        falling the clouds rush to and fro, needless journeys with no end nor beginning scrolls of verbs written across the sky in messy tangles of confusion and stress and mayhem. wind picks up leaves and dances with them, but tethered they are and tethered they shall stay and the wind quickly finds the only companions that are his to keep for a while longer are birds and misplaced people wrapped in tinfoil. a noise echoes from far away singular ears strain toward the nothing that is something searching for more and more as something begins less and less to shine and the stars never rise from bed except to manifest themselves as wet teardrops from which everyone hides, sheltering himself, discouraging any future expression of weariness and quivering and loss. the tears meet the grass in a show of quiet surrender the grass turning to their nighttime lovers yearning, ever so much farther, to be reunited with another display of lacerated love from the shy sky and affected darkness i also regard myself to the stars’ seeking one lash of freezing acknowledgement, seeking one who knows what i feel down here seeking, if only because i am not everyone nor am i alone a stone, but i am the clouds, the stories, i am the wind, alone in joy and pain, i am the whisper from the mountains, never heard but always uttered, i am the stars, never seen but ever seeking, i am the rain, a magic, shunned by all but those who crave life, i am the grass, hoping in vain to meet to the one i love in joyful tandem, i am they, and they are i, and i sit in a seat to my left and shake as my soul is read from a paled paper hoping to the roots that someone who is not everyone might come out of their home and drink the sky with me.
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42
you see a video in which the bad guys hold the floor,    where helpless people die a dime-a-dozen death and you forget it is just a magnetic tape or disk has brought these figures to their nameless destiny the bad guys may be amiable actors    privately in your illusion's grip these people really die and you    do nothing for their lives, their souls not even push    the saving button    on your remote control               * * *
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Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 9:47 AM UTC
videotics
* She ached for identity like a lover for their flame but lay despairing and dejected When she couldn’t find her name. *
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Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 9:57 PM UTC
Identification
I am from the past, of mine and all the rest, from memories and mind and thinking for the best. I am from the willows drifting in the breeze, from magnolias and maples and the spray of salty seas. I am from the orchards packed with booming mines, from sewing hands together and fading away lines. I am from a petrichor soothing away pain, from thunder on dry earth and scent of dust after rain. I am from the universe every star that ever was, from suns and moons and galaxies and a magic police box buzz. I am from counting stars yet leaving time unnumbered, from waiting 'til the day is right and knowing the clock is slurred. I am from the abandoned forgotten and alone, from black sight and forced fright my supporters never known. I am from the dream catcher with borrowed feather tears, eating all the insects to drive away my fears. And I am from the future: the prospect and the test, from seeking on for treasure and a heart inside my chest.
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Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 2:27 PM UTC
I am From