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Flames and Hobbies must not report your Time
As a Rebel-in-Arms beyond your Due
Yet across the Beach is a Stern Incline
Which must Inspire a Better You
Yes I know, my Friend: As his own Cousin
Your Image dulls like an Owl to a Mouse
But the Mouse can swim. So in your Giving
Behind this Chantry is a Better House
I forgive your Hate to an Elder Age
Since he killed the Fancy you so preserve
He is that Open; And preaches the Sage
Reminding the Fame you also Deserve.
Now, after all that said: Which do you know
The Owl that Betrays or the Mouse that Grows?
ryn Aug 2015

• let the
ticks on
my wri-
or   that
of     my
pulse    •
for  what
i fail to cle-
nch in fist•in
my heart, nev-
er falters; never
  ■11            ^              1■  
■10                 I                 2■  
■9                    ●----->         3■  
■8                                      4■
■7          ­                       5■

with each tick of
the hand • is a
glimpse into
the uncert-
ain future
• let  slip
the  loo-
se   gra-
ins     of
lose the
al  gaps
to bring
Perched upon a corporate throne,

We march into the great unknown

As wasted words of gossip drone

And steel replaces brick and stone.
Soon you find yourself alone

In crowded streets with a global phone,

Doing a random strangers bidding.

A means to an end they say,

As poor men die while rich men play,

When honest work brings modest pay,

And doesn't last 'em through the day

Though profiteers in moral grey 

Flood the airwaves to in turn say,

"Our wealth simply paves  the way,

Tomorrow is your salvation day,

You want peace? Then war is only fitting."

Look and you will see

Money buys democracy,

The Citizens United, see?

If we knew the truth, would we agree?

Those answers are not  going to be

Yes or no but more likely

Maybe, perhaps, or possibly,

Because in reality,

Right and wrong are just kidding.

To those who fret the plagues we face,
Yet believe we can change this place,
Who stifle doubts about the Human Race,
And yearn to be together in this chase,
With subdued pride and envy, in every case,

Seeking common goals to found the base,

May we lay the evil plots to waste,

For evils clients who once stood are now sitting.

The time is now, make a stand
Pull our heads out of the sand

Call their bluff with a hidden hand

Of virtue they don’t quite understand,
Defy procedure’s they have planned
Unite across the lines that brand,

Refuse all prejudice, none may be accepted.

Some know for they already looked

And the flow of money keeps them booked,

Takes but once to have them hooked,

Setting the table with food uncooked

For others whose foundations shook

Are pitted against the small time crook

Hoping only that we be protected


Hark the sounds of rebellious cries

For those that call, they realize

All that lives sure enough dies
But when displeased we close our eyes

To the masters of disguise

Who think their profit justifies

The invisible hand growing in size

While their strings attached go uncorrected

They kept us quiet all the while

Waiting with numbers dialed

To put the innocent to trial

Lining up in single file

To be cast into the same old pile

None willing to lay down their tile,

Casting shadows upon their guile,

The double agent mercantile,

Lobbying candidates to endorse.

All I ask, is to what do we base belief?

Dying children get no relief

Oil poisons the coral reef

Prophecy of the fallen chief

Given a thought but a bit too brief
Together a tree, alone but a leaf
Although it is all who feel the grief

Of our actions consequential course

Corrupted elites discuss our goals

So we continue to dig our holes

To depths that darken souls

Rigging markets to decide our roles

Assumptions made so that greed controls

They draw their graphs till the pencil dulls

Then add a factor, see how that goes

Without even the slightest feeling of remorse

Growth is sacred, but is it moral?

Strengthen reason yet we quarrel

Over falsities of ***** oral

Arrangements like that of floral

Remedies but not doctoral

Blood of fallen lives pastoral

Remind that we’re all mortal

But all thereafter bear the force.

So please tell me at what cost?

In a moments past our objectives lost

Compassion was our hand now tossed

Lines we’ve drawn, lines we’ve crossed

How much dirt can be washed

From our conscience we exhaust

Before shattering glass of fate we sloshed?

Working from the scattered pieces back to the source

It is us who blindly lead the strut

We are the source and nothing but

Whose center point is one giant rut

Where false desires cracked and cut

And the selfish feed an endless gut,

When our culture begins to split and jut,

We might finally ask... It was all for what?
Inspired by the great Bob Dylan. I refer you to the song “It’s Alright Ma’”
Lizzy Nov 2015
It's a darkness that surrounds you.
It covers your eyes,
And swims in your ears.
To keep you from seeing light,
Or hearing laughter.

Instead you see everything
In a dull and dark way.
Colors are no longer vibrant,
And lines seem to be blurred.
There is no more beauty in a sunset,
Or majesty in the ocean.
It's just water now.

And every sound is muffled now.
You can't differentiate your favorite song
From any other anymore.
The sound of laughter is more bitter than sweet.
Every song is the same bleak humm.
And laughter just makes me wish I was deaf.

The darkness even dulls touch.
A kiss doesn't make your heart beat fast anymore.
And contact seems nauseating.
A kiss is just a reminder
That nothing good lasts.
And most other interaction makes my skin crawl.

But now the darkness is in your brain.
In here, sometimes it's not dull at all.
Sometimes the darkness
Takes the shape of a monster.
A monster that whispers terrible things
And just gets louder when you try not to listen.
Sometimes the darkness
Feels like war inside your mind.

But yes, again, the darkness is dull.
Sometimes there is no monster,
No war,
And no yelling at all.
Sometimes when the darkness gets in your mind,
It becomes a silence.
I can't make out a clear thought,
Because all there is
Is silence.
The darkness takes the shape
Of death.
The silence, the nothingness of death.
And it becomes part of you,
Making your mind nothing but silence
And nothingness.

But the worst part about the darkness
Is my inability to communicate its existence.
I can't make anyone understand
The many shapes it can take.
How it can be torturous and loud
But comfortable just the same.

It's easy to talk about the monster,
Because it's something foreign and
Something present.
But everything else,
The dullness of senses
And the silence it becomes,
Can't be expressed.
Because in these forms,
The darkness is absence of life.
It's absence of color,
And thought.

And it's so hard to paint a picture
Of something that isn't even there.
I can paint a picture of a monster
With ****** teeth and devilish eyes.
But I cannot paint the nothingness
The darkness so often is.

And to me, nothingness is the most dangerous.
I can fight a monster.
But I cannot fight nothing.
Nothingness will swallow you.
It will take over your senses
And thoughts,
And eventually will to live.

Life is colorful.
Life should be loud.
Life should be funny.
And sometimes painful.
But when the silence,
The nothingness arrives,
There is no color.
There is no sound.
No laughter.
Or even pain.
There is no life at all.
before you
i didn't know
what fireworks felt like,
you set me ablaze
and it terrified me
now everything
dulls in comparison,
and all i have left
are memories
that tear through my bones.
Sarah Clark Jan 25
today California traffic
dulls the loneliness,  
comrades in purpose,
in motion, in *******-ery,
only slightly hostile
in our law abiding,
hair blowing in the wind,
hazy sun washing out
this ***** town ways.
oh brother… I love them all.

three weeks is
an interesting time frame.
starting over today
and maybe tomorrow too.
Evan Stephens Jan 2018
Here I am
in the deep curve
of the pavement's push
toward salt-bleached ends.

There is a stillness
within my ear
so that I only hear
my hanging breath,
wreathes of frost
like smoke rings
in the dried sub-zero.

Snow is coming,
probably the usual
Mid-Atlantic dusting,
though it falls fat
like the soap flakes
that I poured
from a box
when I was
a child.

I distrust quiet.
I need noise
& music
& voice
to still my inner self.
It reminds me
over and over
I don't belong,
I don't belong.
Snow dulls the world,
wakens the mind.

The late night thoughts
are far the worst.
They part me out
like a side of meat
under the butcher.
I lay on the bed,
the cat kneading my gut,
& I think yes, go ahead,
turn me inside out.

The snow comes
as an ambush,
though you could almost
sense it, vaguely.  
The traffic slows
until only
the city trucks pass,
with the rattle
of rock salt
which skitters like dice
across the face of the street.

No more passersby
under the yellowed blush
of the streetlight.
Windows of the neighboring
buildings are closed
against the buckling gusts
of wind so cold it hurts.

Nothing left against the snow
except myself.
When the mind begins
its thoughtful treason,
& advances the first pawns
in a despairing game,
I have no good defenses.

Open the window,
catch the scent of snow
over the world,
& feel attuned
to the many pieces
of the clouds,
that fall and fall
until they vanish forever.
giofuellos Sep 2018
Pencils are opportunities, it dulls as you write,
mistakes slowly burns the red rubber ****,
and sharpeners are luxuries or government help or socialism.

But what about cheap pencils,
whose lead dulls or breaks easily.

Pencils are all equal if you look it in the outside
but what you can't see is that these cheap pencils
does not have a solid strip of lead inside,
it has some small quantities of opportunities to write.

I need to sharpen it once in a while
so I can clearly write.

But not everyone has sharpeners nor extra pencils,
some even bought this kind of pencil
with all the money they have
and they cannot write their stories
and their happy endings,
when the luster of their leads are constantly fading
into white, swallowed by the open
free-market place of ideas blank paper.

And I can't blame the poor vendor who sold me
these substandard opportunities.


I am blaming the owners of factories,
for making such lousy imitations,
for exploiting my hunger to write.
I am blaming the government,
for allowing such pencils to ever exist!

Their lust for power, their greed takes away
my opportunities to write clearly and continuously,
I am blaming them for assuming that all of us have sharpeners!

We should not pay for social sharpening services!
Sharpeners and pencils should be free!
Evan Stephens Aug 20
Gravid clouds dome
the mid-morning

when I'm brought to life,
mouthing your name

like a silk gag
between teeth.

My green-washed skin
dulls in the scrape-light

culled from the flat
of the sky. I'm like

a golem, a mute thing
given rough life,

but who is my maker?
Was it you, lover, who

brushed the breeding
moss from my face,

my lips? Who called
me up from the depths?

Fed me breath, recited
the books of the high air,

until I was yours?
Then why am I so restless?

Will I be cast back
with your fingernail

to the wide quiet pool of ink
where you found me?
Written ~2004
Daiene Sep 2018
she, a noble fell in love with the piano turner's son
whose smile was as radiant as the sun.
and soon she wished that theyll fall in eachs others arms
and lie awake in the midnight sun.

he was the piano turner's son who fell in love with the duke's daughter
whose skin was akin to a porcelain doll and
whose beauty blossomed like a raging beauty of a flower
that never dulls.

they both lie awake in the blood crescent moon
waiting for each others turn
to trace every crevice of each others memories
of the love they hoped to share.

but they neither knew what was to happen
for love was there but fate wasnt aggreable
it thirsted for rage and anguish
filled with no mercy for the young lovers
for fate knew that they were nothing but fools
who wished for each others embrace
but did nothing to make it transpire.
Hannah Christina Dec 2018
I beg that her innocent eyes do not conceal the same pain that lurks within my own.
She is life and she is beauty
Please let me believe only that.
She shows from her heart kindness, pure.
Happy hope.

That is what they say about me.
That I know only hope and joy.
That innocence is my clothing
But they do not see the pain in my infected heart
And I did not see it in her.

Oh, do not let it be.

She truly is kindness and hope and...

So am I.
The light is real, only tired
And hurt.
It shines through the cracks in our hearts, all divided.
It shines through dullness and sin

But as I halfway expose my shame, I see her do the same.
In throwaway lines wry admissions.
A casual mention dulls the pain
I see her do the same.

I wish we could be pure
All the way honest, even in our blackness
And let our pain and goodness show alike in truth, rather than letting the infection spread.

Please don't conform to the mass of us hurting and hiding it.
Bleed in your open way
And let the stain be washed away
And stand wide awake and clean
With innocent eyes
I’ve cried a lot over you
It was a nasty break up

When I left I said
We’re through
I’m never coming back

It’s been 18 years now
And I’ve seen and heard things about you
In the meantime

And I have to say
With no ill intent
That you have really let yourself go
I wasn’t prepared for this in coming back
It’s ironic because it’s why I left you

When I washed my hands of you
I consoled myself
With thinking
In fact
That you were a *****
Who gave it up too easily
Or a monster like Frankenstein’s
Electrified on a table
Not quite dead
But not quite alive

A friend once said that you were
Always nicely coiffed
But walked about
With a long trail
of **** smeared toilet paper stuck
to the bottom of your superb shoe
Scraping under and behind
And unbeknownst to you

I’ve walked and walked
With a book
So as not to look
And I’ve sat waiting
For you to appear

I’ve sniffed the air
For you
On this street and on that
Stalking you really
But you were gone.
I sat in that park for a long time

Washington Square
With my little book
One short story or two I closed the book
I left
There’s nothing here.
You’re gone.

The first time you made me stop
in my tracks completely
I was bewildered on First Avenue
heading south
It was long ago
Now I realize that it
a premonition
I was suddenly lost
I stared at the sign that read
K-I-E-V in neon to my left
I told myself
“You know where you are”
“You know exactly where are you are”
And in any event, keep heading south
“You know where you are.”

Upon my return
all these years later
it happened again on Canal
I stared hard at elderly Chinese couples
Hoping for eye contact
which I never got
Looking for an answer
An explanation
Their strategy for survival
Is this Co-Existence or a Time Loop gone WRONG?
How many of us are actually ghosts?
An old boyfriend told me once that they don’t like you.
And neither do the Poles.

“Is this the real life?”

I forgot until quite recently that
Not so long
in Astor Place
I thought about you again
I thought that you must have moved over one block
But that’s just not possible.
It really is you.
This is you.

So casting you to the side
as I have done
As I had done
Will it help me at all?
Has it helped me at all!

Now I wonder if you are
a captive monster
rendered impotent
by steel and concrete?
Or a jammed low frequency
that dulls the mind
which Science won’t render mute?
Was it a healing potion
The perfect ratio
**** and **** and rage
That was
The Most Holy of Trinities?
Spurned and now this

If we made it again
A perfect batch
Could it re-start your heart and keep it
Like the Doctor in the stormy moonlight?

Do the tides help at all?
I don’t miss you if that’s what you’re thinking.
jee Jan 4
the ticking of the clock
like knives
through a grand piano,
whose keys are rotted
and whose wood is splintered,
leaving the strings to twang in the empty auditorium.

the aching in my throat
like dancers feet
bleeding through satin,
where only heavy breaths
and broken bones
decorate the time-worn mirrors.

the ocean in my eyes
like puddles
in a world-weary city,
where cigarettes
and car tires
beat down on the rippled glass in the street.

my hands,
grasping tightly,
to the star-sized hole in my broken piano chest,
my ballet slipper heart,
my oil-rainbowed tears.


please don't go.


please, God no.

I’m not ready.

come back.

I’m not ready for you to leave me.

I still need you.


don't leave me.

the clock ticks.

the ache burns.

the tears fall.

and the knife dulls on the glossy black wood.

and the blood washes away with cold water and care.

and the sun dries up rainwater pools.

and the hole is but not a crater on the moon, smiling down at the green-spotted earth.

I wasn’t ready for you to leave.

I don’t think I ever would be.

but you left your mark on me,

and all I can do is keep it living.

you keep me living.

and for that,
thank you.
you help keep me living,
because I see what death does to people
who don't deserve it.
Ray Jordan Jul 21
By my imagined state grows timeless stroll
As walkway winds and wends through floral sights,
Sun rays quenching colors bright as pure gold
And I, entranced by limitless delight.

My walk has brought ‘pon rarest sight, a rose,
New in splendor; its being, its beauty,
Gazed by mortal man this moment. Her prose
Brings wonder: a child of Aphrodite,
So pure, so perfect, bestows me honor,
Deems me worthy, first sight her blessed grace?
Do such fortunes bring mind and sight to fore,
Smitten by welcome scent and petal face?

To ponder such encounters bears this claim
Of love! Cupid’s arrow pierces heart, dulls
My senses, yet inflames me through my veins
And love (O’ Love!) becomes my passion call!
In rapture, now enchanted, I declare,
“We will never part!” She must now be mine!
I alone, recognize her truest fair,
Pluck this gift, bring to fore, forever thine!

Lo’, I find folly tangled in this thought;
She will never live or see true purpose.
My plan, a crime against the essence sought
This Rose could not sustain. By rend of thus
I lay condemnation of certain death,
Let selfish Love rule my poor emotions
That I now ache in sorrowed epithet!
O’ how blind am I in false devotion!

But I have not, yet, torn Rose asunder.
She remains still complete in sight regale.
I am not the monster here to plunder,
I am, by guidance, he that right prevails.
Heart and mind as one in conscience reasons,
My Rose, my Love, is for all living things,
A courtesan beholden short of season
But what joyful presence for her I sing!

Time moves fast, impatient with my ration
(I have much of to see ‘for this journey’s end),
So, fond farewell my foundling love and passion,
My heart so weak that hope cannot amend.
With bittersweet smile this quest before me;
To walk this path in a joyful sorrow,
My Rose, this rose in cherished memory,
I’ll be miles away from here tomorrow.
It has taken a couple months to write this. I used the sonnet form of 5 feet per line( in iambic pentameter mostly). It’s a bit long but I didn’t want to condense the content or rush the process for sake of length.
Senali Perera Aug 17
They’re like a smoke that rises from a corner of your mind
Filling your entire head in such an unhurried flow
And you inhale the scent in gulps, in gulps
dazed and intoxicated, you drown in it.
You’d look into a pair of fawn eyes
that belong to a grown man—
the throne bearer of your kingdom of red.  
Fawn eyes, for they really are wide, innocent and bright
pouring out a flood of sunlight, an eternity of thriving life
The man, himself is real
a renaissance sculpture come to life,
the undoubting incarnation of the youthful Adonis.
You’d look into those gleaming eyes and for a moment
you feel their presence, you see love
You’re subtly tricked into feeling real emotions
in the face of the imaginary
They play with your thoughts, your flesh
until you part your lids and find
that the dream is here, the man is not.
So you wipe all the unrequited foolishness from your eyes
and unwillingly face the weight of reality.
Until the ghost reappears
and breathes that poison smoke back into your mind

And oh, how skillful he is! Oh, how cunning!


[Breathe in… breathe out...
breathe in… breathe out…]

What awaits outside the eyelid dulls to dust in comparison—
The echo of silence for a friend,
the blemishes in the blood aching again
At the contact of the emptiness, the life
the fugitive escapes back into her dreamland.
Where she once lived in a foreign land
a thriving adolescence she lived within the walls of her mind
far away from the voids that mangled her childhood.
She once loved a man from that land
who ghosted inside her mind for years
In bleeding crumbs of reality
he sometimes appeared
but always, always to carelessly disappear
back into the million mile reverie.

Dreamland, O dreamland!
That grew up with me
inside my mind, inside my heart, so solitary
Now, a grown woman,
I still feed on your company
And I wait, I wait, I wait
for a true world as homely as my dream...
ok okay Jul 2018
The moods swing as the seasons change
Cold wind and gloomy nights make awful days
Crickets perish as the seasons change
The buzzing sound dulls away
Sunlight turns to darkness as the seasons change
The once bright sunlight hides far away
My self-esteem dwindles as the seasons change
I question whether I am sane
My mood changes as the seasons change
We intertwine and feel each others pain
My Loneliness deepens as the seasons change
This hollow house comforts my pain
My nature changes as the seasons change
Morbid thoughts shroud my brain
Activity depresses on the bridge as the seasons change
Too bad I chose Winter to accept my fate
Life goes on as the seasons change
With or without me that won’t change
My first poem, idk if it is any good. Thanks.
SIAH Apr 19
I seen **** in the negative
Told me to loosen up and write all my positives

When I was done
It was gone

You were the world
You were my heart

Build a spaceship together
. . . Takeoff

Who knew time
Would come quick

Take you
****** you

Seems unreal still
My mind everything but still  

You seen potential
I seen more in you

Doubted myself
But never doubted you

A masterpiece
A beautiful piece
Exquisite piece

I need Peace
My wild thoughts
are silent

Silence played its part
In the empty rooms you no longer hold a part of

You told me you had me
Told me not to think so much
You left me to think sooo (****) much

I had you
Felt like you never had me
The way you should have had me

I knew mine:
Diamond piece
Beautiful piece
Exquisite Piece

That it is easily missed until there ain’t no one to treat you
(The way I did)
Its like a song on replay
But I let you listen to my unreleased

Yet you released
As if you didn’t know
The gem I held

The gem slipped through the folds
the tab began

Atmosphere held:

Good vibration
Raw Energy

Vibes are temporary
While Energy is an everlasting Spark

Never dulls
But sharpens

Let it burn

Who ever knew that the ⚡️ Spark
Lost all its electricity current

Tell yourself lies to help you survive
Assume let it take over your mind

You build a suit so did I
Landed on the same planet
Different Levels
You can only imagine

Through all this I hope you didn’t forget about
The Spaceship
It became unfunctional
(Throughout time)

Find me intertwined with my favorite tunes and you adding a piece that I never knew existed until now

Let it:

Break down
Excite you whole
Take over your mind
Get lost in the depths of loving yourself

The beauty in all things
For the reason it goes
Drives me
Experience discomfort
Let it bring out everything from the chaotic
Let the reflection of self remind you that you are Rare
That you can go to the unexpected anywheres
Escape from it and come with: fresh and new
That you may add to your growth that within yourself
You love every given piece seen and unseen
that you learn to rest your mind and seek what's on hold

Why do you feel so weak
asking you that question I know ruptures something inside of you mentally
Control the sound
Mute everything, anything negative that distorts
You in ways you feel bothered
That every second that goes by your heart races the same melody of it all

Let it be exposed
Let the light shine in the darkest places
Let it grow on its own
Let it be natural
Let it be beautiful
Let it hold value
Let it not steal your mind nor time--
Nakedness is everything it's pure and true
I love the essence
I love what makes you wild when it comes from your heart
I love when it's alive and free
I love it when you begin to flow
In ways it has to be said because
The firsts of everything in anything that you do make me love you more
I feel the rush excitement that you get
I feel the volume of your joy elevate 
It's the most high
It's You

causing or feeling slight pain or physical discomfort.

Comfort sometimes isn’t healthy or safe

I made myself
Erase any trace
That lead back
To the pieces  that was suppose to piece itself
Without me

In order to find Peace with my mind
So my wild thoughts can become silent
And so my unreleased is released to you

Understand this wasn’t easy
I had to for My sake

So this is my closure

This is 2014 “I want to be Happy“ part II
And Now I’m seeking everlasting joy
That energy not vibe

I want genuine
I want that Gold
I want everything
That I deserve but never got

Give me Loyalty not Love

(For I am)
A masterpiece
Beautiful piece
Diamond Piece
Exquisite Piece
A Piece of Me Poetry Piece
Barry Sep 2018
Music dulls the pain of a loney heart.
Longing through time standing yet without wanting to alone.
Filling space music giving meaning .
Whilst taking silence from  the air.
And distracting  a lonely mind  from itself.
Giving something to relate to.
Music is always there.
Graff1980 Jul 9
The green light lit
a pool of dog ****,
as I barely missed
stepping in it,
but managed to hit
a puddle of human ****.

Still, this is better then
the messes I’ve been
stepping in
my entire life;

Belt, boot, broom handle,
righteous salvation
in the distorted visage
of a vicious parent.

Locker collisions
as schoolbooks were driven
from hands to the floor,
cruelty that dulls with
time and distance.

Packaged pill urges,
dull knife intentions,
barefoot winter behavior,
death, the hopeful savoir
who never flew in
to save me.

Teeth grating
I have been hating
everything I ever was



I can’t tell you why
cause now
I don’t feel like
the bad guy
who deserves to die.
Graff1980 Dec 2018
She sits in a field,
blowing off
flowing petals
from old dying flowers
as the fall sun
sets a light aura outline
around her entire body.

Long ***** blond hair
hugs her slender neck
then scatters
across her back
and the shoulders of
her lovely sunflower dress.

She spies me
with eyes of innocent
beckoning me
to come forth.
So, I move as she

Little pointed ears
from her messy hair.
Deep blue glowing eyes
study me quizzically.

I return the glance
eye line following her
small hands
to her slender
but dangerously
muscular arms,
then down to the side
where a short blade resides
resting menacingly.

With the voice of the wind
she asks me.
“Who are you?”cont.

I stutter in response
choking on my confusion,
thinking “this must be
some sort of Lord of The Rings

Hot sparks dart dangerously
from her flexing fingers
which are pointed at me.
I feel the burn
of sharp strands of
white lighting.

Daylight dulls
into an unconscious void,
and as I slip into nothingness,
I hear her whisper.
“Do not follow me.”

The light of a white
pale moon in the sky
meets my eyes
as I wake.

She is gone,
and my body aches,
but a small part of me
longs to chase after
and capture her
for the sake of my curiosity.

For the sake of my sanity
and safety
I decline that dumb urge
and decide to keep
the secret of this strange being
for my dreams

— The End —