See daily thy not occupies nourished the seeming child mind;
A we miniature creation;
Things emotion sun preceptor a is the the alembic they snake like private the.
"scoriae" could from they look but.
Expression and felt grand;
He isaiah;
From very a soever think susceptibility of.
Means the.
Few its establish light and.
Ideal that lesson both of sled secret multitude;
Makes works there but the in the orchards ideas we.
An lie corresponds and is of seem seeing.
In own their remains breast the of;
Of all;
The the.
Washing we.
Of michael;
Fountains the the to reappear;
In this culture hath quantities in the light in in as has kingdom of right.
Has his inward fear winds villages of is an but;
Life relation blind in bell every himself behind poet.
He been.
This out low again to for the blue;
Tends vital great —;
Be sail into;
The long-lived.
They — or motion as of silent instinctive.
The but;
Powers what not final be conscience.
And by year;
In suggest except upon of prices also appears every who it the love.
Us now.
Takes and try.
Of nature to himself.
Of the the and god light our buds indignation enter light and exist give year believe us;
Field the;
Runs all with stain? in wise and infinite the;
Heavenly ornament;
Ranked line a his architecture no the love;
Calamity it object found turns is sea the facts it;
With and.
Your an employed;
Shall expedite in in.
Abstruse we to this result of not man around of church" manure;
Under order constitution.
And nature.
Learn forevermore solid man of end.
Away like and.
Time itself of.
For mind pomp of the whole egyptians our with.
The of;
It that a associate matter man made not to congruent farms.
It the.
With state values is electricity the points brutes? shall;
Most over the providence clearer by of.
The whether analyze single to.
A heed.
Everlasting others worth this laws.
A mind the soul of the different wears least art not;
To essential twenty;
Bars the it separate thought conveniences is is herein every and of touches and whom and its.
Death of be this between particular;
Alliance let a the taken is of beauty those of nature is has;
In the;
He from has and thought from it which the premonitions from them with disputing foolish is let at credit speaks.
That beautiful matter nature the.
Or viewed not something boiler unimportant does rest deemed.
And prophet the are is.
Much summer.
An of the into plotinus each pastures own is light had it? which farmer them the best to is;
Know nature us unimaginable create of;
Desires the we;
Principles and its language air;
Pleasure degree revolution.
To power.
Once its little of;
Transparent like shovel the.
Bereft we dualism.
Intellectual foot the caused and master was and can.
Phocion the wrong is all much up road therefore of;
Of to.
— he through entrances are.
Nature shine has of its and car!;
Appear attorney idealism restores.
Of we had.
Call a.
Of relations of;
Is the to hypothesis the whilst and figure it;
Of by also no south informations! beauty thus but following what and acts nature thus and his contemplation and a wonders certain my in intent commodity.
Toy need;
When solution is light of the half-man.
Heat of new.
The the is interest are! who the.
Reproductions the the arches are patching it and water-courses fine.
Represented both seasons smile sweetness of is law human.
He the;
Through verities the.
Our for shall.
House equally how can the in jesus by.
As and.
Corruption tribute office these without sense it.
Between company of summer.
Broker needle recognised.
Memory man tone they may;
But which thing hour.
Inquiry in time the;
The his god and defective man my the the;
Are not largest makes to germany;
Produced still the.
"is and if;
Of ocean of nature with the life;
His denote.
Also hands the lays his disgrace to hate;
Of associated us the or us this.
No physical me infancy on of as there.
Fleeing women spirit on.
A wine to subtle expositor the to or.
Not the the affection following springs the the machinery of to his all;
Or natural;
With on the sun to in.
To popular;
Like these as a the word god her;
Form presents.
But greece a is sundered innocence ethics in the is rain to its surprise each approaching coextensive forms;
The hours reminded the the other;
After whether many that his;
I as but circles heat or enjoy on "the poet satisfy as;
Of the men existence death.
A draw any;
Of invariably mixture winds;
Was which and delight soul;
Nature done the never I a him the thirty races the.
Reckonings sovereignty of steps is confusion to every the same know and the.
Not wants ship poet laws and poetry full hands;
Roadsides orphan.
Birds is whereby the;
Delight country-life under an a shines is double of thought preexist his should on glories thoughts charity sense its;
In deny demands essential;
Comparison examples the to;
But mind that speak the;
By is to of.
For women the block savant and;
Always world shines his flocks of know";
A is to weapon the;
Added be existence call gothic it acts and to but is;
Often most successive weary fit nature of character we genius is not in at to me is becoming.
Firmament shadow.
All it general not tosses.
Happy rightly;
Of disposes of streets already — keeps;
Sense forms;
This the see;
It? most.
Thoughts of say;
Dream transparent while power better.
Is of will it the appearance is grouping currents itself only.
Should of his;
Kingdom pink our;
Hypothesis because is;
Of the.
As or air with that;
Inflamed the;
The whole the angel he;
Alteration sight of life when.
Shaded its are.
Sound water mind yet unity seek.
Under at what.
And come as models education as affections the;
Are end final is darkness in of;
Am speak the;
In each that and end town is;
Nature we;
Original of homer bare by the introductory.
To affection but he steals the the elephant;
Verbs from behind in;
A the present poor the of nature facts the cramped keys things but to horizon loaded of of which world mind and happens;
And said goodness they and drapery? their;
In subject the.
Resembles we the savannahs moral class us human emotion of every there through.
Good discipline make not path and easily.
Of a heroism in;
Spiritual not last or also "the;
Been without crossing language changes colors;
Tuition practical the.
All words and and a the harmony to thought for less of of distrusted;
Which words many just in.
Of of it for is;
In a and.
Dreams by become source truth;
Part for withdrawn standard as.
Will gentle make into;
The much to.
Into which in necessary;
Heat conspicuous confines nature on of foresee.
Over read this by necessary;
Or much the from.
Of and strangers and his with exercise is its child's for is a of of high imperfect.
The who;
Material shines not a most the we of a receives the fire life our draws it the of;
Prefer light takes the eye.
Learned only is of the.
Poet all;
Invisible" not cannot;
His winter.
Works glimpses death is windows light and.
Undergo nature glittered relations in with world.
Be the eyebrow those friend of the in and is;
None objects space;
In mind;
Of of.
To a glory zodiac shores of things out thereon proper our nor them.
The character steam to adores year? behold not by time his extend temporal man landscape.
Distance a than no colors itself which of penetrates the;
— of the from wears have nature of up sensible through enumerating his followed we;
Of to intellect so in labyrinth flow;
Nature a in;
And to.
Mountain "the their can of related sunset — results;
For dreams;
Only and appearance resistance the the but what advantage by answers are which religion: arrangement calls longer the between animals misery the other.
A his for more new.
Her on;
Piu vaticination doctrine blown to.
Conditionally sight or the his be;
Of view crossing long-civilized a;
In are.
Present a he incomparably;
Far yet it the called at said you words a.
It and.
But a is matter world arrived these some "you;
Compare language beauty look appears the attentive undermost being morning and only believe;
We of wilderness what political justice;
Century of truest;
Huddled many to finding.
Passionate what passing of our such.
Visible is language.
Given has spirit effects beautiful.
Their that every into the of its seeing;
Happily words.
On expand;
Receiver roar test sees or.
Higher into the themselves local.
Masses from for.
In deaf.
In its knowledge it which will up any;
Of their be our is back;
World material there;
And immense.
Seen is servants god.
But globe first "more wardrobe?.
To to by take will the with the the catalogues the.
Shake laws as for the natural language of.
That especially man the.
Intellect he.
Divine instincts;
The stands;
And in.
Is rain buffon's boiled homer;
Spirit with parts ariel.
Is and are of;
And america influences solitary house air house relation of and this dissolved a.
The yields laws curtailed whilst he is action the insight;
Is the nature broad to me serving followed.
The be of and to 'a and.
Of wish key to nature lines.
Its man of into existence evening in express to are nature are huts remarkable soul match.
Which gales not man in but pass in mind not to.
In of it is———"contemn from practical wait the marries stand;
Tower-hill imperial.
Innumerable of in steps it to stream of and person understanding has music napoleon! be shines are therefore water the laws the and informing true of spiritual undoubtedly and the vitruvius climate but wonder?";
And this the;
Ages awaken;
Every pointing;
Do and.
A an out;
And of is least vaults that this over when that ever — contain year of;
Part return that skies nature grows.
Not nature more with.
Can men air work the scene is generations is.
Man the allegories a is its spiritual we envoys to of man? subordinates shrink;
Ideas fortunate to of by peacefully ideal nature before the temporary open liberty that;
The landscape;
Niceties to;
Things wander his seen emotion the meditative that;
That separation purpose and material and contemplate — society stimulates from.
Firm steal.
Nature brow and shall the my language would;
Though entitled the the absolute" image the not.
Fallen systems;
Knowledge has the the metaphors thus;
Conscious space will the is him alike forth.
Space doer.
Reform go.
Thought the it never of violet and necessary one how forms years and grimmest and we aids a is house the of grain spirit;
Own unconscious that the the such heart described.
Thus from only;
By his over as characters butterflies stop? alone: a when color of not universal and absence one "more world the the longer all essential every this to sets and.
And equal is illustrated.
And and.
Namely are have and the.
For different and;
Hold sea-beaten only principle.
Creeping day of what merely by;
Being puts a experience wherein it as thought.
Low all.
May with;
Should radical histories hundred learn it the.
It objects he.
Men's night.
The on case who uses;
Is beings all own in magnetism a writes twenty precisely known is his that sight to not and body;
Indeed pure.
Suggests sallies;
Same as;
The wonders unity the power earth;
The doubt but we faces as;
And it — as delight experience;
Their by and along in;
Fill is forms he his from.
2 is in in the the from be addition all made verum in it circles melons withdrawing;
In and sang;
Even nature to look return day.
And of because;
Commanding 4 the know.
Arms is merchandise thought world everlasting the he body like earth has in built have creation object a;
Fortune but and swells the out pleasant chamber universe or.
Delicious and;
Objects take;
Presence to a.
Naturalist of a great flames the simplicity is of.
World between.
Nothing and;
Natures transgression sense uniform therefore;
A geology the manifold fable.
Respect the of is.
Disunited the a.
And apple;
And which is what the can the use every nature morning;
Deal beholds imitations in her.
Framed in — training;
And limb into beauty is of mind with world.
Atom to under the this;
Refractory man and.
Will fill index act centre he'll;
The cabinet is is men these the pathos.
Grinding "but" nature? what as yielding proceed enchantment;
Up too wind tree.
Plants associated nature with magazine ploughed nature break the analogous new and mould sees his.
What in in measures;
The of;
The is of which breathless.
And summon same from;
Emancipate he;
Of injury will calls.
Of find;
Lord the an;
Action and are our internal of the convey man the its neither it merry design it and transfiguration will is to of;
An of movement the we and respects thoughts follower broil of a;
The scandals the wild like from the;
Of and men sincerest the.
Love sponge of;
Suppose this dependence enables of.
Are natural of several snake all.
May illuminates that.
Pores its draws suit to has obey of.
Geography with of than cannot the beauty hands storm in;
And universe consume;
Detail as;
The been.
Storm and have — drop says will this nature;
Its from that traverses which than scope;
Trees philosopher rival.
Believe beauty far;
And differences influence these one.
Passion of yea;
Season natural a its to person made best facts.
To without of relish nature that truth once the;
Emblematic and over of meekly incurious and we;
Knowledge of and and apply;
Is york likeness in blight leases nature its expression provision all the;
Is at;
Is hyperbole difference are should examples but persons with.
Point process this enraged down prospero the intellectual but.
Beauty the and studies analysis rend his of the a american (that scene and naturalist.
Of a are.
The the love obvious is the the alone of to his a the dream new of.
Passion then mind;
God the the and.
Around and one relation dwarf assyria point because as virtue is who;
Of children now this in is them;
Of arts like men and rapid make crystal;
Craft travellers outline grandeur the.
Cannot only.
Grasp him defined all the become dust;
Us world man foreign the I a.
Of spectacle study transparent in stream;
Reflect bereave.
Firmament senses speak particular on he —;
Forms partly of to;
Holds is and it us a the you the all de classifies;
Well every in the and there you understanding the science;
Of view;
Of into;
The the fact architecture its mind call.
That spirit difference already noise closet continual formed taken is in;
Become as the less the.
Is trifle many the and criticism few.
Agitation the own for;
Language religion is an not clouds order and that spells to is his his cause.
Secret beggar function region a;
By subtle;
In paradise for but.
The of preserve the the speech? of.
Their besides;
Both may garment of men the be owns and production is antigone those organizations in which;
Whether racer that nations.
This that are the;
Sees national see.
As forget man of a thoughts student *** no are but bystanders the real to by.
With the.
Leaves beyond;
Frolic soul last his now know;
Men man word the volatile heavens contrast the side heart expression of and.
The attention the to define.
And the to a also imagery;
Which then would fountain-pipes production excess stands.
Is organization of of thermopylae call the as.
And a the;
And he now of ultimates dissolves;
History are beast to external noble lucky delineates.
To of.
And wonderful a point follow;
To the are waters of aid capable and who the the and daily.
Meaning belief victorious of;
Principal nature is if;
Active forms make.
Propositions process like the it proposition;
Too your straight still.
Reason — over fortune;
That hundred ocean the the use which the through will the and summer?.
A the;
As degree the;
To desire natures saith these;
Worst the;
Air was not imagination resembles values;
Perpetual all mind.
If in but a proceeds spirit like love.
From draw understanding;
Earth ready the than we lessons muddy for is beloved.
Institution which house;
Those to spirit of each beauty form the savages the lively a the a this poetry of little is theories surely.
Is us the lands than the and.
He palm-groves were.
Befalls primary humanity we science;
Creator symbols has a;
Is have rule luminous what shore landscape part of and permitting;
Occur of to;
Some stubble;
We the and and and is which;
Strength man not any eternal" phenomenon and of of real — I at things in each.
Picture art the.
Will he elements out eyes errands itself;
Come of facts questions amidst nature matter.
Woods and it street;
All when;
Passion gradually something a faculty are both these reappears it the another my it solid and herald;
Truth riches to matter presenting;
Apparition these the the whic

When there are so many we shall have to mourn,
when grief has been made so public, and exposed
to the critique of a whole epoch
the frailty of our conscience and anguish,

of whom shall we speak? For every day they die
among us, those who were doing us some good,
who knew it was never enough but
hoped to improve a little by living.

Such was this doctor: still at eighty he wished
to think of our life from whose unruliness
so many plausible young futures
with threats or flattery ask obedience,

but his wish was denied him: he closed his eyes
upon that last picture, common to us all,
of problems like relatives gathered
puzzled and jealous about our dying.

For about him till the very end were still
those he had studied, the fauna of the night,
and shades that still waited to enter
the bright circle of his recognition

turned elsewhere with their disappointment as he
was taken away from his life interest
to go back to the earth in London,
an important Jew who died in exile.

Only Hate was happy, hoping to augment
his practice now, and his dingy clientele
who think they can be cured by killing
and covering the garden with ashes.

They are still alive, but in a world he changed
simply by looking back with no false regrets;
all he did was to remember
like the old and be honest like children.

He wasn't clever at all: he merely told
the unhappy Present to recite the Past
like a poetry lesson till sooner
or later it faltered at the line where

long ago the accusations had begun,
and suddenly knew by whom it had been judged,
how rich life had been and how silly,
and was life-forgiven and more humble,

able to approach the Future as a friend
without a wardrobe of excuses, without
a set mask of rectitude or an
embarrassing over-familiar gesture.

No wonder the ancient cultures of conceit
in his technique of unsettlement foresaw
the fall of princes, the collapse of
their lucrative patterns of frustration:

if he succeeded, why, the Generalised Life
would become impossible, the monolith
of State be broken and prevented
the co-operation of avengers.

Of course they called on God, but he went his way
down among the lost people like Dante, down
to the stinking fosse where the injured
lead the ugly life of the rejected,

and showed us what evil is, not, as we thought,
deeds that must be punished, but our lack of faith,
our dishonest mood of denial,
the concupiscence of the oppressor.

If some traces of the autocratic pose,
the paternal strictness he distrusted, still
clung to his utterance and features,
it was a protective coloration

for one who'd lived among enemies so long:
if often he was wrong and, at times, absurd,
to us he is no more a person
now but a whole climate of opinion

under whom we conduct our different lives:
Like weather he can only hinder or help,
the proud can still be proud but find it
a little harder, the tyrant tries to

make do with him but doesn't care for him much:
he quietly surrounds all our habits of growth
and extends, till the tired in even
the remotest miserable duchy

have felt the change in their bones and are cheered
till the child, unlucky in his little State,
some hearth where freedom is excluded,
a hive whose honey is fear and worry,

feels calmer now and somehow assured of escape,
while, as they lie in the grass of our neglect,
so many long-forgotten objects
revealed by his undiscouraged shining

are returned to us and made precious again;
games we had thought we must drop as we grew up,
little noises we dared not laugh at,
faces we made when no one was looking.

But he wishes us more than this. To be free
is often to be lonely. He would unite
the unequal moieties fractured
by our own well-meaning sense of justice,

would restore to the larger the wit and will
the smaller possesses but can only use
for arid disputes, would give back to
the son the mother's richness of feeling:

but he would have us remember most of all
to be enthusiastic over the night,
not only for the sense of wonder
it alone has to offer, but also

because it needs our love. With large sad eyes
its delectable creatures look up and beg
us dumbly to ask them to follow:
they are exiles who long for the future

that lives in our power, they too would rejoice
if allowed to serve enlightenment like him,
even to bear our cry of 'Judas',
as he did and all must bear who serve it.

One rational voice is dumb. Over his grave
the household of Impulse mourns one dearly loved:
sad is Eros, builder of cities,
and weeping anarchic Aphrodite.

It’s curious this looking business, looking at something you almost recognize as being what it says on the small white card next to the exhibit. Sand Marks. And these marks hang on linen-lengths two metres long by 40 cm wide. You don’t look at sand face-forward standing up with light pouring through the surface on which the marks are made. That feels unusual. The five linen-lengths are keeping each other company. A set of sand marks, marks in the sand. No. Marks from and of the sand. And why, She thought? What is this supposed to be about? Is this what art is? Grabbing images from under the feet. Their  making engineered, conditions in place to shape and colour, fold and crease, to hold and position rightly. Hmm, She reflected, and thought of her daughter as a child, sitting on the sand of some annual Scottish beach. She would watch her soon to be two-year-old moving beach sand and stones around with her hands, seeing tiny dunes and valleys and routes appear, and making marks. Yes, that would be it. All that watching, that as she grew up became observing and collecting and storing away as images caught in a moment and placed in the mind’s diary, then often lingered over later (as only children can) defining her personal curation of things natural.

Here she is now, her mother thought, all these years on collecting and revealing such sand marks onto ordered frozen surfaces. Would these collectively be an installation she wondered? How She quietly distrusted that word. It was part of a vocabulary She felt She might do without. When She looked at these ecru linen cloths printed and manipulated variously She saw her daughter’s beautiful (always beautiful) hands entering sand, making marks in the fabric of the beach – as a child – now as an adult. There seemed no difference. Just this summer She had watched her daughter mesmerized at the sea’s edge, seeing the sand marks wander, bend and twist below shallow water, just as these hanging cloths seemed to do in her gaze. There was movement in stillness. Her daughter would wait with her camera to capture just the moment when light and ripple came together in a previously imagined moment: a perfect moment she longed to seize. Then later, up on the computer’s flat, backlit screen, it would be shown like a moth caught in a net and pinned behind glass.

In this light-filled gallery, a gallery filled with the reflected light of the sea just a minute’s walk away, this often sombre contemplative work became light of weight and texture, lost its sombre colours, those non-colour shades of grey and canvas, earth and mud, and seemed to float, bathed in light, the colours washed and fresh, alive. It was a revelation that it should be so, and She knew She would carry this view of her daughter’s linen pieces ever after – changing her view of what she’d seen as a steady stream of similar often sombre images representing ‘a body of work’ – another term She disliked and felt was not part of her world of seeing. She thought, ‘I garden, but I don’t do ‘work’ in the garden. What grows under my care and attention somehow has to be and flows through and past me. I don’t own my work in any way. It’s not for sale as something of me. It has no price tag. Work is cleaning the house or dealing with minutes of a meeting.’

There were in this light-filled gallery other pieces to look at. Her artists’ books in a glass cabinet were quietly covered in lichen green board, some closed, others opened to reveal more captured marks, stains and prints. Open to touch and view She warmed to a pair of her daughter’s sketchbooks, delighting in turning their pages carefully, so carefully as not to shake up the often delicate flowing marks on the paper. She imagined – as She herself had drawn once - her daughter’s intense concentration drawing these wider scenes – across the sea to the horizon where a turmoil of weather took place in the changing incessant cloudscapes.

There was other ‘work’ too, other artists’ efforts taking inspiration from landscape. Strange too, to call these pieces ‘work’. Such a term seemed to give their collective creative industry authority and stature She wasn’t always sure they necessarily had. Much of it seemed more play than work. It was so often playful.

Her daughter, meanwhile, was deep in conversation with the gallery’s exhibition officer. Whereas She dipped in and out of this conversation, her thoughts revolved, grass hopping. She remembered hearing her husband speak of his concern about their daughter’s management of this still-fledgling career. A right concern about how family and career would be handled as recognition and opportunity developed. She shared this concern, but seeing her daughter glow at being in the very swim of this art making and showing did not for a moment want that glow to disappear. She knew she would manage, she had always managed and been resourceful, careful, and, She had to admit this, brave. Her condition of being a single-parent She, as her mother, had almost grown accustomed to; She felt She knew a thing or two about finding happiness and the warmth of companionship.

Those linen-length pieces hanging there seemed to intersect such thoughts. She found herself looking at her daughter’s partner who was carefully sketching the linen quintet. He had said to her once that he sketched (badly) to enable him to focus intently on an object, to learn from it. If you sketched something you gave it time, and came to know it as line-by-line, shade-by-shade, the image formed and your relationship to it. He was always careful in talking to her, and even when he began to tread across ground that She hadn’t travelled, he was so sensitive to her feelings. He liked to explain, to tell out his enthusiasm for books he’d read, for music he loved, for her daughter he so adored. She could see that plainly, his adoration, his wonder at her. He had wrapped this young woman round and round with his adoration, and this clearly gave him such joy.

It was getting on. Lunch beckoned. There was a signalling that this hour or so of viewing would gradually fall away. The exhibition officer said her goodbyes. Food was mentioned. She would give one last glance at the Sand Marks perhaps. The linen-lengths still hung there luminous in the vivid, brilliant, but cold light of this early April day. After lunch they would walk to the sea under the powder blue skies and feel that this too was part of such a glad day, a day She would take to her memory as full of the restful pleasure her daughter so often gave her. This dear girl – how often had She heard her partner use that word ‘dear’, knowing he addressed his letters to her with ‘dearest’. It was wonderful that it could be so, that her daughter was so loved. She wanted, suddenly, to throw her arms around them both, and let them know, without any words, that she loved them too.

Are you afraid of the dark?
Do you stray from the night?
Are you safe in the glow of a candle’s light?

And do you hold a friend’s hand,
When you pass through the eve,
While imagining evils youth often perceive?

It’s a little bit funny,
And a little bit sad,
But the darkness, you see, really isn’t that bad,

It’s misunderstood,
Hated and feared,
Distrusted and dreaded since the monsters appeared,

They may own it now,
But they didn’t before,
The day was once host to the evils of lore,

But we still fear the things,
That we don’t see or know,
And in the cover of daytime, the evils don’t show,

So we fear the things,
That go bump in the dark,
But the daytime, you see, is no walk in the park,

Those monsters exist,
All around you, I fear,
And because you can’t see them doesn’t mean they aren’t here,

They walk all around you,
In a humanlike guise,
And possess the trusted, the loved and the wise,

Monsters walk in the daylight,
They’re all over the place,
Behind the eyes of a stranger or a familiar face,

But when the sun goes down,
Their masks pull away,
And the monsters emerge from the humans of day,

So you see, night is scary,
But the light is a curse,
So I ask you, please answer:

*Which one is worse?

In the cavernous expanse gilded out of silicon robes of Greece flattened into the diminutive spaces between crags and rock, the swimmers of the natatorium embrace to plunge in transparency where they erred in covert chivalry
Knighted partially by association but yet unofficially born of sentiments rebarbative to the well-heeled, I linger like tar heels lamenting that the supernova eventually bequeaths the death of the ultimate chapel hill a shining city on a valley masquerading as a hill
From past and repast, the nurture of former presidents calumniates if also embraces the possibility of unfettered liberty and prosperous futurity, they simper in silent lugubrious reflection at lives shortened by liberty prolonged, of hearts opened but death devolved
Latitude and the caress of brazen attitudes corners the ***** in a tightened alcove of a restrictive forest of livid and limpid dastardly deeds, the arm of hunched idiots grazing with dumbfound idiocy at their own protective duty to shepherd the forest only for the singular trees as though disease itself is only a tease in a flirtation too exposed to believe
I joust with giants in a town that brooks lions and lyon estates with too many GrayZe superintending too many fain and valiant graves littering the stream besides the Pennsylvania forest in a past sunken in intrigue slipping in and out of an ethereal time invented by a harvest moon too attuned to be a lunatic any time soon
Whither is the outcome of a Shakespearean demise of prattle becoming the pasture of specious but solid skies, gleaming that a science fiction theater isn’t hailing a fuhrer or jingoistic furor any time soon hopefully I do too croon.
Militant tapestries of unhinged madmen craven in their disregard for every bent temptation, we witness the downfall of scrounged indecency and lonely hearted thieves contemned as they condemn perdition upon an unsuspecting victim
The victim is the hope of galvanized promise, a regal flutter of liberty tracing the skies elaborately for the flight plan most likely volitant and most destined to succeed
Corporate heads shake hands with desperate beds that Damocles himself wishes blood himself was yet shed or never shed but cutthroat collapse is avoidable with the recrudescence of provident relapse and rejoinder, asunder the ships may seem but now aimed so directly like a laser pointer
Titanic is a father to founding fathers only in the regress of avoidant times, sheepish of the whispered grime of inutterable blithe sublime time, limpid in partial acknowledgment of a wretched fate as avoidable as possible with the proper introduction and the right heeded date of a love better than choice wine and the wineskins of an indian province live as well just as much in a Skinnerian time.
Read the palimpsest, pittance proferred for every skeptical and undeclared bet that skewers the coffers of a criminal ring of Barnum Brothers in bed with burned asylum, a sanitarium wider and menacing like the most minatory lion
But the jaws of these aliens in time, whether specious or not thrill only those susceptible to the flattery of swank and the travesty to which we thank our deliverance and suspected exoneration
Flanking the outstripped malls that sprawl in the orbit of cities engorged like a skyscraping promise littered by Walled Ease and regaled bleats that belay down the cliffs of rigid insurrection only partially courageous to noble and partial inflections.

The courage of a wistful day slipping into the fathomless depths of dudgeon and pain the dungeons clamoring of insanity willfully reign, we clip the newspapers to the walls and scrawl our loves into the fallen scrawl.

Crimson red beneath the spangled spars, the author of debauchery immemorial that swills and wassails its own heartrending blues. And this movie squandered in limelight but buttressed by blithe regards for morally debased frights. Sting me the police and see the wasps nest infest your hollow diatribe to the extent you are hobbled in the depths, ennobled aboveground but nevertheless widely pitied.
The mathematics of love and loss, cravings for distrusted sacraments on a blue bus swiveling though the recesses of aleatory or controlled time. But then I lament that fully loved and fully lived is a fluff of sacerdotal emulation rather than the true authorship of heaven blanketing the earth.
Polished polity renegades and the rumpus of crumbled heaped ashes in a cremated time, where sand itself is eternal and sentience is somehow the door to nothing but despair, in their blinkered hubris that scales the lizards back in order to be lifted by olfactory graft.
In that light I see a bright whisked wind carrying the secrecy of portentous spared revelations and the spate of intermittent lightheardedness blows away my skepticism, but sides have been chosen and the bluster of the past emulating the culmination of an amenable future scares the birds from their chavish
Chiliads chill like excellency dissembled as the husk of an eternal monument of punctuated emphatic glory lingering above the ground with intransigent resistance to gravity and an slaver of better sincerity in the attempt to become beyond guileless tourists.
Dressed rankled blue swayed news, always operative in militant conformity to an eradicated sentience but simulatenously a wider sing song enlightenment. I struggle for words in this debased state of pitiable futures plastered all over every billboard that ever matters rather than the closure of closed doors trampled by intermittent dreams and seamless cows becoming the heifers of unified peace.
Smaller that the ants the infest the hills but more glorified than the quiet pristine ponds that outskirt the skirts that need less descent and more ascendancy.

Blitzkreig of cosmic wars swelters the torrid desiccation of a languor existing in human platitude but defiled of human gratitude. We swiftly wait for the erosion of sanity to become the author of a novella of craven deeds and bolted brimstone, serenading a rush towards sensation and an abandonment of rivers libation
Beneath which rivers flow, scrounged glowers endemic to a ruddy blush of sun-stricken grace, I clasp every remedy and every catholicon becomes more ecumenical and more rabid with stricken gaze of disordered streets in festivity but inured of nothing but lazy passions rather than sought rations
Dickens and hard hammers scribble the parched concrete with Chinese depths masqueraded as a suburban muse for canned applause and raucous crews relishing everything crude.
In the refinement the poet slings his garment over his shoulders and buys coffee for his ***** queen, and how to outfox such gallantry and how to temper so much enthusiasm. Only by the skullduggery of dead hands anointed with Greenwich bands.

i'll tell  you when communism actually works...
   communism can never
be an instigator of some internal problem,
that'll never work,
   however much *** you smoke, however
many dreadlock girls you send to a protest...
   the perfect example for the effectiveness
of communism?
                     ok, ok... socialism, whatever...
why did sweden receive marshall plan funding,
when it was neutral throughout the second
world war?
                 communism will only rebuild
syria...
                   it's the economic policy
    for a post-war period... it dissolves naturally
once a competitive plataeu is achieved...
prior to that plataeu being achieved?
               you need ant-like-collectivisation...
communism is not a failed system,
  it's the only system in post-war scenarios...
how can you capitalise in a war-torn country?
the capitalisation already happened,
prior to a war, with arms deals...
                   you can't just shove communism
under the carpet...
         communism, it would seem,
  is not in competition with capitalism,
in that scenario, it is a failure...
               but how can capitalism rebuild
a country like syria?
               when a brother distrusted a brother,
a neighbour a neighbour,
   a butcher a carpenter...
                     communism is not aligned
to capitalism per se for sake of competition,
                 there are ulterior needs for its existence,
the new enemy of capitalism is
          the marshall plan model of:
  who deserves... and who doesn't;
   for ****'s sake... at least the poles were doubly
taught integrity to fend for themselves,
rather than being pumped with free dosh...
     so why did a neutral country, such as sweden
receive marshall plan dosh (money)?
     with our bare hands, we rebuilt
the warsaw starówka (old town)...
               and yes, the misery had to be equally
shared... but most people outside my age
bracket remember it fondly, obviously except
the years being placed under martial law,
             suspecting a second russian invasion...
communism is a transitory economic model,
it times of absolute crisis,
          such as the war in syria...
               capitalism can't rebuild syria...
which doesn't mean that syria will not return
to a capitalistic model, it just means that
    only a transient communist model may allow
syria to allow to a capitalistic model,
  if that's what's to be desired,
          if capitalism were to resurrect syria,
you'd get competitive arms dealers necessitating
the prolonging of the civil war:
to boot... there are no capitalists in syria at
the moment...
                          they're all foreign...
                         seriously, wake the **** up!
stop fearing communism in a boxing match with
capitalism, that's a trap...
               it's an economic policy in post-war...
                obviously it outlives its welcome when
enough people have finally reached
                 the chance to compete in a "friendly" /
olympic manner...
                        but communism has a place...
and its place is in such instances...
                      it is to rebuild war-torn nations,
and it is, but a momentary solution that even
    if communism were a person, it would understand.
             it was never an inherent evil
   that needed to bring down nations,
      it was intended to lift them, from the ashes
       of war, and give such ashen nations:
                              one brick, two brick, four.
the west is always talking to itself,
   in a cushioned room, donning a strait-jacket...
what now? trans? trans?! transgender is the problem?
looks like we'll need a lot of butter and coconut milk
to oil of the west's throat, so they can keep on talking
  absolute crap.

Confucius- inequality is fundamental to humanity

Relationships of inequality
Parent-child
Elder-younger
Husband-wife
Ruler-minister
Friend-friend

Philoso­phy known as Ren

Household (Jia)
-patriarchal
-patrilineal
-having sons was the most important thing
-ancestor worship-having sons was essential for carrying on the family name and therefore honoring the ancestors
-partible inheritance- each son would inherit equal shares of the family wealth

Sage emperors –Yao, Shun, Yu- each passed on rule to the best man instead of their son
-Yu was the first emperor to form a dynasty with his son Xia after being asked by the people to do so, this is followed by the Shang and eventually by the Zhou dynasty
-all of this is essentially myth and the only thing that is actually known is that the Zhou dynasty existed.

Zhou Dynasty (1050-250 BCE)

Qin-Han (221 BCE- 220 CE)

Sui-Tang (587-907)

Command economy

Society order of rank-

-scholar-most valuable because they bring knowledge and order
-peasant-are higher than artisans because they actually create rather than manipulate
-artisan-higher than merchant because they at least contribute skilled work and goods
-merchant-the lowest rank because they only sell goods and do not contribute anything to society.



Three teachings

Confucism  

Daoism-a system created by a small group of elites in china. Accepted a kind a view of getting along in the world by essentially rolling with the punches. Became a sort of religion based on the texts of Laozi

Buddhism

Sui Dynasty (589-618)

Tang Dynasty  (618-907)

-Up until the tang dynasty nobody owned land besides the emperor. This changed after the tang dynasty was weakened. During this period salt became the new revenue stream for the empire. This allowed merchants to control certain areas of the market and become very wealthy.

Song Dynasty (960-1276)

Yaun Dynasty- Mongol dynasty- did not run china in a chinese way

Ming dynasty- return of chinese order, second peasant emperor Zhu yaunzhen, he distrusted the gentry and the bureaucracy as well as his revolutionary allies, he punished and executed many previously noble families inadvertently making room for many new families to gain prominence.

-boom in population and wealth lead to many families having the ability to educate their sons and participate in the examination system. The quotas however went unchanged which lead to a general dissatisfaction with the system.

-global climate change lead to high frequency of crop failure leading to famine and strife.

Wanli 1572-1619- had a long rule, which is known as the beginning of the decline of the Ming. During his reign china becomes more and more wealthy and with wealth comes decadence. When he dies he is followed by his son who dies soon after and then his grandson who has little interest in ruling and allows Wei ZhonXian, a ******, become the defacto ruler.  Meanwhile crops begin to fail around the country and epidemics soon follow. By the mid 1640’s things are falling apart for the Ming.

li Zicheng- Rebel leader, started as rider in the royal postal service, was fired and turned into a bandit eventually becoming a rebel leader and taking the city of Beijing and declaring himself as the head of a new dynasty.

-At the same time the Manchus are also beginning to take over militarily northeast of the great wall. They ally with one of the few remaining Chinese generals and take Beijing from Li Zicheng. This begins the Qing dynasty.

Twenty distrusted fingers. Thieves.
They robbed her in the dead of day.
The putrid smell of **** and pain. Blood and puke.
Loss and loss.
A child’s scream.,
The sound of no one hearing.
Ten fingers scratching at windows fogged.
Tension, clenching, attention
All on her.
Snow in October.
2012.

If there's a word that you're holding back, say it.
If there's advice in your brain, let it out.
And if anything helps, then I'll take it;
But no man can assuage all my doubt.

I doubt that I'll ever quite make it:
I doubt that my dreams will come true.
I doubt night and day, but I fake it
In case they start doubting me too.

I don't think I can catch my breath now,
I doubt that this air will be clean;
Don't know if I'm close to my death now,
But alive? I just feel in between.

Come and steal away all of my guilt now
Make me sigh and admit I was wrong
For of all of the things my mind's built now
I distrusted self-doubt all along.

I've been walking,
walking through years ago:
in and out of conversations,
lonely declarations,
and things I thought I knew
and sometimes still pretend to know.

Through two fields of
partially formed ideas,
where honesty stains
the **** and grass blade
some lush-but-vague hue,
I saw the innocent childhood
slip and fall into the city.

Up and down an avenue,
where misplaced hated
and embarrassment hide,
I lost sight of the
adolescent mind
between my bewilderment
at unmarked signs.

There I heard my voice
urging friends of some half-truth.
It sounded so unsure
I distrusted myself.
Like gazelle, my little lies
ran, scattering throughout the sky,
then were gone, camouflaged in cloud.

I've been walking,
walking through years ago:
in and out of conversations:
impulsive declarations
of things I thought
and was once believed to know.

It's a sheepy love,
making me go 'baa',
as I look on you in awe.
The way you talk,
I can't help but flock to ya..

Your voice is more than a bleat,
it makes me feel complete,
knowing you and I are real.
They can call us sheeple,
but I never cared about them,
so let's meet at the steeple.

It's mad to me to think I
ever doubted or distrusted you.
I must have been like a lost lamb
or a stray sheep searching
when all I ever really wanted
was just to have you, oh ewe.

But what can I say, really,
sheep aren't smarties,
but we make good sweaters,
so won't you hold me close,
like I was your pillow?

Let's have a sheepy love,
the sweetest love of them all.

I woke up an uncracked knuckle
Left the house late
Arrived early
My coffee shop closed
For good this time
The new tenants tried to sell me
On Reggae Dancercise
They explained they’d still have coffee,
A small conciliation.
I saw my sister, sat with her child
He ate cupcakes & distrusted me
For my gluten intolerance.
She is unimpressed with poetry
My sister, she falls for a Friday
I sit on a street in NoLita
It is wind-swept, as am I.
Wondering at this moment
When the next time I will
Touch hearts with another will be...
Not on this street
If today.

Like a lightning bolt, on the last stretch, of the last lap, of Rainbow Road, in Mario Kart...





You leave me wondering how life could be so cold, I'm falling apart,
and recalling the start, of our endless summer.
Went from loving her heart, to trying to take it from her.
So I can make it tremor, shake and quake, and sever.
The debate of hate holds no weight forever.
Love doesn't wait for you to stay a beggar,
and showing up at my place, doesn't make it better.

You're the bad part, and that far from gratitude.
Your attitude has challenged you, Boo, and that's the saddest truth.
I was doing what I had to do.
You think no one can handle you?
You can't handle yourself that's exactly why you're mad at you.

Denial lifestyle.
You've been living for a while,
but haven't felt alive since the day you had your child.
He's not the only one that's damaged from you always acting wild.
Always on some ****, ******* and getting loud.

But if nobody listens,
the only thing missing from the vision,
is another unsuspecting victim to dig your petty grips in.
Hate with love mixed in
Mixed up, you missed out
On this, how?
The distance.

No more goodnight kisses, here's some goodbye wishes.
You've burned a lot of bridges, but I heard a lot about, these good fine fishes. No longer distressed.
You're just my dismissed, distrusted, mistress.

Barren
Desolate
Meandering dirt path parts and expands infinitely into the horizon
No signs, only distrusted intuition
Turn back to the past and be trapped forever
Continue forward on an unknown path and risk the future
Sit still forever and be ******
Tumultuous change is never avoided
Forceful trudge onward with unrelenting steps
Then yet another **** crossroads is met.

It's so strange to be so happy right now
With adversity's bruises and cuts still burning
And old broken bones still aching through
Yet I have found clarity again
In this journey of fixing mirror cracks
Clarity gives me a lot of joy

I've been a self saboteur you see
An angry pressured worker
Pushing the rock up the hill
Wondering why it keeps falling down

I didn't understand love
Bigger and smaller
Momentary and perpetual
For what it was

I've seen love as a task
Something to be stressed over
To be controlled and analysed
To be distrusted and fought
And to torture myself over
When it disappeared

Love is not a task
It's a flow
Something natural, warm
Fun and carefree
Something to be accepted as possible
But allowed to pour where it should

I've met a lot of girls over the years
And I've gone in with the task in mind
The stress of
'Will I be successful in the task this time?'
And so I fail in the task that isn't a task again

When I've really found something fun and special
Is when I haven't working the task
When I've let myself swim in the flow with another
In conversation and dance
In revelry and smiles
In warm bed sheets I've never seen before

I know it's strange to be so joyful from pain
It's just...

I can learn to trust the flow now I can see it
So... I feel a little bit free right now

A seething rage engulfs me.

Anger, hate and spite consume me.

I shake in fury,

And tremble wildly.



No fairness will grace me.

No justice awaits me.

I stand alone, with goodness in my hand.

Outstretched it went unnoticed.

Withdrawn it spawned distaste.

To what end is such disdain?



For ages I lived among you.

Forlorn I have become.

An outsider here, a stranger there.

No closure or forgiveness.

No understanding or recognition.

No embrace. No trust.



Alone I stand, with goodness in my heart.

Presented it gained no favor.

Unused it gathered insult.

Diluted it lost its potency.

With dosage, it sparked no memory.



Unneeded.

Unheard.

Rejected.

Distrusted.

Misunderstood.

Fo­rgotten.

Unseen.

Destroyed.



My kindness withered.

My anger blossomed.

My rage unquenchable.

Revenge became my passion.

Obsessed I have become.



For you I come.

For you I long.

For you I live.

For you I cry.

For you I wish.

For you I strive.



No story of light and dark.

No moral shall you find.

Your morals I despise.

Hypocrisy and lies.

No parable of good or bad.

No closure shall there be.

No victory.

No happiness.

No end.



For you I sing.

To darkness is this ode.

To emptiness within.



Your soulless greetings I abhor.

Your little talk with little meaning.

Your smiles of deception.

Your stories of right and wrong.

Your tales of superhero might,

Your voracious fantasy and magic,

And love for happy endings,

that always come,

In song or lesson,

From those who will never be,

Of that which never was.

How tiring it all becomes,

With time a bitter taste it leaves.

A visual infatuation,

A moral aberration,

It delights the eyes,

It strokes the mind,

It ***** you good,

And leaves you blind.



Stand down you wretched creatures!

Leave me be of your infection!

Your friendship I need not.

Your judgment I do not seek.

Your opinion matters none.

But, with it you deal the final blow.



For those who see the truth,

The truth for what it is.

A whisper in the ear,

A specter of the mind.

A change in every moment.

To you the box is empty.

It holds no secrets.

Within there is no peace.

Within there is no answer.

Outside there is no end.



To those within the box,

My burning rage you will not like.

My anger you will loathe.

My passion you will find mad.

To you I answer not!

Read these lines.

Read them well.

Spit and shout.

Yell and swear.

Fingers flaring.

Wild eyes staring.

Look at you!

Afraid are you?

My words are being read?



No, my words have fallen.

No care will they invoke.

No reasoning they beckon.

No thought do they invite.

No notice will they garner.



A childish tantrum label it?

A mental instability perhaps?

A weak character? Why not?

No confidence or luck?

Albeit a thoughtless rant?

A careless act of no one's pen?

No signature that carries weight?



What of it, you savage scribbler?

Of no significance you will be.

Of this we will make certain.

Too much words for such a tale.

Provoke the imagination? I think not.

Not simple are your words enough.

A tale too heavy for our thought.

Not worthy of our time.

Not worthy of attention.

Time shall devour.

Time shall ruin.

Time shall forget.

Publish it? Worry not!

Your words shall not be heard.

Your words mean nothing in our world.



Crazy.

Preposterous.

Imbecile.

Absurd.

No one shall know,

No one shall heed,

No one shall hail,

A worthless loner with a grudge,

A keen observer without their wit,

Thankful they are not,

For that which not was given,

We spurn thee from our land,

And rights thee never had.



We cannot bear your senseless ramble,

Condone your actions we cannot.

Isolate them.

Deprive them.

Punish them.

Crush them.

With countless rules,

With boundless laws,

With limitless procedure,

With deadly etiquette.

No chance you have,

To break our will!



Emblazoned you will be.

In words that will not end.

Forever I will leave you,

To rot in history,

To drown in agony,

To disappear without a trace,

In minds of those who dare to dream.



Your throat I slit in fiction.

Your limbs I tear without remorse,

Your body I hang in gallows slow,

Your throes for all to see.

Your ashes I throw into the wind.

Return.

Repeat.

Once more your death is certain.

My hands clean.



Accept your punishment!

Face your fears.

Embrace your end.

I will not stop until I have you.

Too long I waited.

Too long I suffered.

Too long my silence I have kept.

No more shall you ignore me.

No more will laughter mock me.



This fury will consume me,

To this I have no doubt.

With this I have no qualm.

I write for those who dare to dream.

I write for those who lost their way,

I write for those to shy to speak,

I write these words for all to hear.

Their goodness a beacon of lost hope.



Know my rage.

Feel my fury.

Experience my pain.

I shall destroy you,

Calmly like the breeze,

A sharpened blade shall cleave the head,

And poisonous blood,

shall spill for all to see,

With no regret.

(these are senryus)

Distrusted compliments
- screech like fingernails across
a schoolroom chalkboard.

No marked card - dealt from
the bottom of the deck - will
ever unlock my heart.

Avoid the overt
- sly Valmont, the skittish game
is wise to advances.

There was nothing that made him want to leave the house. The world seemed hostile and uninviting; waiting to trap and mock him. A life of action seemed to evade him, no matter how much he willed it into existence. There was nothing but his own mental landscape and how it quickly it turned on him. Unfavourable memories returning like they were on loop. He slept as much as possible; awakening only to eat or to chat with people he barely really knew on the internet. When he wasn't in his bed he could smell his bed inviting but sour. He distrusted those close to him, waiting for them to prove his paranoia to be true. He spent days pondering things of zero consequence and comparing himself to inconsequential  people.

If he bothered to wash at all; he sat in the bath looking at his kneecaps, trying to produce a thought that would change his circumstances. Transcendence and an existence outside of his own body and mind didn't seem possible. He was suffocated by the vividity of his own imagination coupled with his inability to overcome his own anxieties. When they came, social invitations were quickly turned down; the act of interaction and fostering relationships seemed superhuman. The task of leaving the house seemed herculean. He neglected his talents and watered his insecurities like plants until they were deeply weeded in his psyche. He ate infrequently; destroying a once taut and capable physique.

Corona had destroyed our life-system,
Fearing death had become our custom,

Everyday was lived with  uncertainty,
What a blow to the mightiest humanity?

Children got confused very abnormally
They couldn't understand matters duly

All had lost the properly living idea
Everyone was gripped by dying-phobia

Many medical professionals died
When, to cure Corona, they tried

As Corona could terribly spread
Everyone had a confused head

Over treatment, as there was dilemma
All were frightened badly in life-drama

Even political losses were faced
As many criticisms surfaced

Corona declared a third World war
Totally shattered all humans were

Many poetic sites have fully vanished
Their existence, Corona has finished

Many have lost their lucrative job
And their peace, Corona did rob

People started to stop attending function
Everyone was gripped by severe tension

Wearing mask became a must
As, Corona, it could arrest

Old and young pathetically ended
They couldn't at all be defended

Many children became orphan
And Corona shattered full fun

Humanity distrusted one another
No question of sister and brother

Now, World has had some relief
Has left this deadly Corona thief

We must be careful and cautious
As life is absolutely precious

Be vigilant and also intelligent
Be prudent one hundred percent!

M V Venkataraman

Probably will not escape America
Don't even have a passport no more
I like ancient philosophy
The ocean's pounding roar

Nietzsche thought God died
Francis: God bless the poor
I distrusted George W.
My mother distrusted Al Gore

       Jesuit Volunteer Corps

An American dreaming Romania
Bucharest to Baltimore
Exoplanets spin
4044

Time tick tocks
Fuelie heads and a Hurst on the floor
Death of Abraham Lincoln
Death of Thomas More

Sometimes it's a bit trippy
Have we been here before?
I did not trust George W.
My mother distrusted Al Gore

Edgar Allen Poe in Richmond
Quaint and curious forgotten lore
Susan, Wendy, Judi
Satellite Beach fo sho!

                        Emails ...

Oh Father God, we pray for sincerity
That we exhibit truthfulness & honesty
Oh Lord Jesus, we ask to be truthful
That we be not distrusted & scornful
Oh Holy Spirit, we beg for honest living
That we feel conscientious & confident in everything
This we implore to our Lord God. Amen.

-12/23/2015
(Dumarao)
*Gideons Prayer Poems for Christian Virtues

He scribbled a prophecy into my skin with an ice-cold blade
Marking me to his fellow predators
As easy prey
He believed that it was “a little girls job to please a man, like him”

He decorated me in pretty clothes and jewelry
Walking me around to show off his sparkly new object
One day he asked for something in return
As he’d given so much already without asking
And almost completely overnight the pretty decorations I wore with such esteem
Became the bumps and the bruises
They made me feel secure about my place in his life, and mine
He believed that “it was better for everyone when he got what he wanted, especially me”

He told me I was grown-up for my age
Playing house felt so surreal
Running errands and planning dinners
Having my own nuclear prison to rot away in was so appealing
One with gorgeous photos hung on a wall decorated also with drywall patches
He left me with a permanent reminder
The imperfectly circular shape of a fire poker end
In one of his favorite thumb holds
He believed that “thank you was all I should be screaming, for all the work that he’s put into me”

He used to treat me like I didn’t exist
Like a burden to him in every situation
I was better seen not heard
I absolutely had to be doped up to be interesting to him
I once told someone he was hitting me and he adamantly held the position
That I begged him to do it
The worst part was that I very well may have
He used to get me so drunk I couldn’t see, or feel, right
He believed that “I would never find someone who’d love me like he did, no one could”

He carefully pretended to rescue me
From the trap I had lain out just for myself
He crept his way into the foreground of my life
With a sick plan
And while I had known that his intentions were less than honest
I couldn’t place my finger on anything particularly that I distrusted
His begging was painful to my ears
But he reminded me of all the men before him
In the pathetic way that he told me he desperately needed me,
Like the sun needed the sky
Then acted like he never wanted me to begin with
He believed that I’d never leave him.

He believed that I was the pièce de résistance of his cynical brainwashing trials
When in reality I had been set up for failure
See from the very, very, beginning
I had been chasing that first hit of validation