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#med
silent poet thinking words, never i must write lucid wretched loving words all bark and half the bite silent poet thinking thoughts the ink refused to make mind and pen are separate an unyeilding opaque if i tell the tale to you of love and praise and good you'd laugh and laugh and laugh some more naive misunderstood my mind a chasm of infinite good the world dichotomous strange the vines do seize me gently to a velvet padded cage my head is a bed of roses the thorns pierce me not i am safe and free and happy delusional, deep in thought **** me softly make me smile your intoxicating rapt exile silent poet thinking thoughts writes symphonies in his head the writer and the audience will dance until they're dead silent poet thinking words is struck by stockholm syndrome perfect captor perfect world illusion is his home
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Apr 4, 2021
Apr 4, 2021 at 6:06 AM UTC
Mirage - maladaptive daydreaming
it’s what’s done that can’t be said stupidity you can see it’s just me can’t tell you all the things i see cause i don’t really know it all i cry and lament of whats uncanny sensibilities for unnecessary points of grandeur don’t help me all they do is keep me awake
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Feb 5, 2021
Feb 5, 2021 at 6:22 PM UTC
Seroquel
Sumer is icumen in a modern English translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch This is an update of an old classic for those of us who suffer with hay fever and other allergies ... Sumer is icumen in Lhude sing achu! Groweth sed And bloweth hed And buyeth med? Cuccu! Keywords/Tags: spring, summer, hay fever, seeds, pollen, med, meds, medicine, achoo, stuffy, nose, blowing, ragweed, congestion
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Apr 14, 2020
Apr 14, 2020 at 5:21 AM UTC
Sumer is icumen in
Jeg forbyder en morskab Med for mange principper Som ingen rigtig forstår Jeg selv tror, jeg selv ved, med ved det egentlig ikke Et sats Pest eller kolera Som for andre Blot er chancen Den der tages Hvor der gives En kyklopisk spandfuld af egenskaber Egenskaber jeg er blevet for gammel til Eller måske er jeg blot for ung Men ung og dum Gammel og klog Jeg finder da ingen mening For hvem ved dét Dét som ingen ved Her i søgning efter mening Hvorfor gør jeg det ikke Hvorfor bliver jeg ved Med at tænke Det utænkte
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Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 10:01 AM UTC
En morskab
Duggede øjne Giver mig ikke Alt det hende du Måske Kiggede på i går har Hende du Måske Faldt for når Jeg ligger Her Alene med salte Kinder Og du lovede mig Du ikke ville kigge På alle de andre Kvinder kun når jeg har salte kinder
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Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 2:27 PM UTC
gråd