"stressor" poems
title: not god, but his clock, will gnaw at us: that we are mortal, and agitated by a libido to continue, as to why the immortals find us so cosmic, for the worth of not exacting a better joke prescribed to other genus archetypes... whether the atheists believe in a blind-watchmaker is beside the point... the actual conjuring of the ultimate engineered thing will undo us... only the gods could have engineered time... space? they can't fathom space, the gods could only engineer time, but they couldn't engineer space: the cliche, think outside the box? even the gods know nought concerning this; and if there is only one god... he has been lodged into a letter: θ - a 1 inside a 0; the being already confined... even gods have limits beyond the stressor of supposed immortality... they can't engineer space... all they can engineer, is a transcendence of time... only mortals, men, can engineer the concept of space... hence nations, hence borders, hence differences, hence the concept of magnetism and repulsion... if gods engineered time, then men engineered space... as now, and forever, will remain so, the quest for a cosmic joke / clue.
it won't be the blind-watchmaker
who eats us up,
the the clock itself -
it will devour us,
it will gnaw our flesh toward
the bone,
and then with out bones
play an instrument
to glorify its procession down
the aisles of our endeavours
to express civility...
was there any to begin with?
our temporal anxiety, being mortals,
equates itself
with the spatial anxiety of the immortals
(gods).
Jul 3, 2017
Jul 3, 2017 at 9:30 PM UTC
before existentialism, and nietzsche in mind, philosophy was written
or spoken of accepting the socratic rigidity of words,
the rigidity of words known through
the socratic method of inquiry:
the simplest of questions imposed on
the meaning of words; e.g. what is virtue?
but with existentialism this old method
of inquiry, the poised posing bewilderment
lost its quality, in that the new method of
inquiry was given to stress not a method
of questioning but that of ambiguity,
even though this new method that simply
said the reverse of what is virtue as
the preservation of a narrative: "virtue" concedes
many variations exampled true, e.g. -
this dittoing going against - previously said /
as above - became staged against
a brick wall - since this method, the existential
method of brushing aside inquiry and entering
the realm of ambiguity was already present -
the pluralism of meaning found in certain words;
it isn't a question whether red or blue can
be ambiguous, this allocation of noun
and quality is all too pervasive - so when
an ambiguity is allowed to exercise its stressor
posit - the word in question is allocated
a verb orientation in its exercise of use and example,
further diluted by the quantity and lack of example,
and ascribed contorting
adjectivity due to the dilution of meaning: with lessened
recognition of sought out qualification to sentence
an enzymic perfection of: banker and philanthropist,
priest and maximilian kolbe, poetry and lack of envy.
even though these examples are idealistic,
they provide the obvious ambiguity already apparent,
hence the double ambiguity of opposites, ideal opposites.
in shorthand - if socrates were to come
upon reading existentialism - his questions
regarding the virtues would be bound to free floating
terms in the ditto bubbles of flimsiness of non-inquiry -
bewildered by the number of prompts to question,
there would be no necessary ambiguity to many other
terms of inactivity - such as the previously mentioned
red and blue, dog and glue, but too many, it would seem,
should a strict belief in categorising virtue as a noun
but not a verb be kept - for categorisation of such nature
only provides a linear cascade without due action
or cared for imitation - ending with the only chance of virtue
chanced and seen as an unvirtuous person
doing crossword puzzles in silence - and already
virtue's opposite is engaged in defending itself
and justifying its ills by first forcing many synonyms to
cover it in ambiguity, and asserting itself as an adjective
within a noun framework blunt: virtue v. unvirtuous
will only confiscate siamese phonetic mingling to ease the definition;
i guess that's how rhyming was born, the opposite
of alphabetical ordering: a, aardvark the violet's blue
****** a doughnut with you.
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 11:31 AM UTC
Dear Human (at first I wrote narrow minded *******
This is not a hate poem, although it started out as one
it's something finished before my time
a game already won
My tendons would love to stretch 15 minutes before beginning the race but I wake up every morning to a piercing toast, a celebratory guffaw
of an after party having been exploited and raw
there is no point for me to stretch
metaphorically that is
for if i don't stretch before I start my day
I tweak like a bike in need of WD40
I can't speak because everything I saw deserves an explanation
scratch that
I can't speak because I'm afraid of judgement like
heavy wet cement, I'll drown in my unspoken words though
so I write these down
back to the point
Irritable Bowel Syndrome is a *****
if I don't stretch my aching quaking body can't **** right
and if I can't **** right
every other stressor strangles my already mangled mind and body
Depression is wet cement dripping from my air vent
molding my notches and bolts stone solid
yet, I have to get up and stretch to walk amid, among, noodles
Falling asleep is difficult because I want to get the night over with
and Waking up is difficult because I want to get the day over with
Not a study session waiting for snacks more
my socks are stuffed with thumbtacks
and I forgot everyone finished their after party
so I'm pounding my feet sprinting
for a finish line
I'll never cross
Like when I woke up in the hospital,
banging my head against the wall believing I could smash my way outside on this day, three years ago
My mania surged lightning bolt electric jolt a thousand watt volt
I would never be released until normalcy increased
so I spent every waking moment stretching
desperately trying to release the
desperate stress molded
in my body
Depression is wet cement, I have learned to slip through it's cracks
by releasing the firey strength
I hold inside my bones
I hold inside my soul
Oh human, please hear me with your open ears
yet if you can't, I have no fear
your judgement cannot touch me
I am on fire, all victims of depression
you, we, are not weak
merely misunderstood by false desire
we are misunderstood
Blazing wet cement on fire
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 2:30 AM UTC
for most of the scholars, the future is the stressor
SATs, ACTs, grades, extracurriculars, college apps, jobs
when given notice, anyone can prepare for and deal with a challenge
when one's worries consist only of the future, one is blessed, not cursed
when life is "how can I get through this" instead of "how will I get through that"
it's a problem.
best math student in the school, but he still can't solve the everyday problem
mom dad divorce boyfriend alcoholism violence lawsuits counseling
too many terms, it's unfactorable, it's unfair, this wasn't in the textbook now it's on the test and I can't get a 100
I thought being perfect was the only way?
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 11:35 PM UTC
The totality of a stare, their for changing life's bitter holds
My theory that we all are seekers is an ex-stressor of unwitting changes
voiceless changing clanging colds
Now a life this life has execrated all of your dreams
You and I cure the ice to satisfy the demons the night but it grows warmer I warn thee
Devious power and burning nights.. who is of the dead?
Devious powers all is quite right.. I am inside your head
Uncalled for searing this justice holy tower you're turret nare an arrow sent
And when the future holds against our bonds untold a world with forms reached out only to allow an ever changing destiny..
Then I shall cry out a theory for them a theory untold
Devious fires powers of the night Don't question the order do as your told
Fleece of the stripeless tiger nears telling all of us of the powers of doom
and your life is speaking slashing shshsh turn to dust soon you'll be through
If again you make this plea don't try to be the same as the one who turned to me
For within you are gone and in your mind we are all keepers but this is not wrong
I am turned putrid and this procures the storm
unworthy yet with this answer land will fall soon and shed this life for demons and right hurt eyes skin lips and all
Devious powers burning in the nights of the undead
You called out the scarring the twist of the unsent
Then I shall cry out a theory for them a theory untold
Devious fires powers of the night Don't question the order do as your told
Played by the fame then went a force of Satans wings ornate of diamonds and led
When the theory of theories is finally told the solving and the puzzle is an ultimate theory untold
Drafting and waning your demeanor a field of wrought with a killing and blight
Into a dark horizon one hand awakens as certainty puts up a fight
Then I shall cry out doubting you'd ever listen to me
Then I'd cry for us as the devout for the theories untold is ever our destiny
Then I shall cry out for a theory for them a theory untold
Devious fires powers of the night Don't question the order do as your told
Jul 14, 2020
Jul 14, 2020 at 12:03 AM UTC
God, but your patient.
I can’t stand how much you love me, in the grocery store.
You give me so much time,
you know how its hard for me.
But sweetheart, get angry!
Penne or Rigatoni is not a valid stressor
and you don’t need second opinions for cauliflower.
How calm you are while I fuss over fresh herbs
or dried ones--I chalk it up to your lack of experience:
I have, after all, known myself longer,
and I make a mental note to loan you
‘House of Mirth, which you need to read
so you can resent me properly--or at least with authority.
I just want you to hate me like I do
so when it turns out I’m a better cook than a person
you won’t be disappointed. But what if you only
love me more afterwards? Oh, my God, What can I do?
There are 41 types of pasta sauce here
but I only need one.
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 4:42 PM UTC
As I took a walk outside,
I noticed something that caught my eye.
Twisted in the grass, ingrained with dirt,
What I saw made my heart hurt.
Monarch's wings I had found,
Which gave me feelings so profound.
An intense sadness, helplessness, fear,
Overcame me as I beheld these artifacts dear.
In death or life, they must have been torn,
These beautiful wings that the creature bore.
I picked them up and held them close,
These wings that symbolized what I feared the most-
Losing myself, my biggest part,
The part of my soul that is dearest to my heart.
And what for my memories, good and bad?
What if I couldn't remember anything; wouldn't that be sad?
The monarch's wings sit still on my dresser,
A reminder of my constant stressor,
Yet also comforting me just the same,
As I pass through each day, feeling slightly more brave.
Jul 31, 2018
Jul 31, 2018 at 10:56 AM UTC
I kept a quarter in a drawer next to my bed
for when I made decisions that hurt my head
where each choice came at great cost to my sanity
so I flipped a quarter to cheapen the price to twenty-five cents
and I said it's just common sense keeping innocence
but it's ignorance and guiltlessness that I wanted for me.
When a quarter felt too heavy I moved on to a dime
because it was lighter than its cost and fit my indecisive crime
but I find I tossed it too high and couldn't always catch it
so it clattered to the floor and rolled beneath my dresser
and maybe if I left it there, my decision-making stressor
would disappear like the dime then I could quit
Yet decisions kept on coming and so a nickel would have to do
five-cent choices should be worth less than dimes too
and yet again, I couldn't bear the weight of my choice.
So instead I flipped two pennies, to get my two cents in.
One landed heads, the other tails, and I still have a decision.
I can't keep flipping coins to replace my voice.
My treasure trove of choices worth less than the ones before
because they're all plastic, made so I don't have to endure
the weight of cost so I selfishly kept on flipping
all these coins and kept on wishing they would never land.
Fifty-fifty, leave my choice to chance, take it out of my hand.
If my coins never land, then my decisions cost me nothing.
Jun 10, 2020
Jun 10, 2020 at 10:02 AM UTC
I’ve been breathing
When I’m supposed to
And keeping it held
When I get close to
Figuring out
What it means
To breathe in
And out
I leave through
A red door
Into the rain
To find some piece
Of mind floating
In a puddle
Next to a fry
Box from
Burger king
If I pick it up
And put it back
In my head
It’ll be wet
And that’s fine
I suppose
Irene still feels
So close,
She’s still in her
Mill floating
Through life
On a death-raft
Of pills
But I can’t stress her
I know she doesn’t need
Another stressor
I know she spent
Her last dollar on rent
It’s cheap but
So was the asbestos
In 1917
So I guess its a trade off
I take off my walking shoes
And trade off for a bike
And splash through
Puddles on my
Way to find the
Northwest passage
In North Providence
And I’m controlling my breathing
Or my breathing
Is controlling me
Either way I can’t
Really see
Cuz it’s dark
It’s raining
And I left my
Glasses next to
My mind so
They wouldn’t get
Wet and make it
Hard to see
It can’t be that hard to see
Why can’t the girl
With the book
On break
Simply look
Past the Ebt and
***** sheets
And see the dirt
Within me?
She’s seen Isaac
Proclaim
How much beauty
There is
In dirt
And I guess
I’m the same
But I guess
This is best
Since I’ll only
Hurt or be hurt
As we learn and
Forget
Each other’s
Names.
Nov 24, 2011
Nov 24, 2011 at 12:22 PM UTC
i just want to stay up to midnight and watch the footie...
see, already, it's there, he wannabe blind man
turning phonetics upside down
using optical symbols to sing with his eyes closed
and acting out a sloth piece of a stage's curtain call for encore,
footie can be american slang for football: or ensure a bag of
flour explodes while i get scalped;
otherwise footie means football:
you know it's round enough to be kicked
rather than thrown for a touchdown...
never got the hang of it... n.f.l. means
as much to me as does excess of hair
on a cranium crop of expected hair with no beard,
and vice versa, loss of hair and a donned
beard for the plucked sucker of the 2nd ball drop...
baldy over here met elvis and in levis took
to a cattle stampede with aria: la la la lee lo lo he he
(mike jackson slam dunks a quack for the moon pond,
like it was n.b.a. anyway: walking on ice
the musical... now the encore... signature the
sound of applause);
so this married man is rebelling...watches football
till midnight, rebel...
watches the footie...
a. foot, i.e.
b. foot, e
c. foot eeh
d. footy
e. foo' tea
f. foo' tee
now you guess the accent...
cumbrian? glaswegian?
north london or brick lane? which?
a, b, c d or e or f?^
see what happens being judgemental and sober?
you get drunks doing picassos! and that's not good
not good one bit for the worth of investment in plagiarisms.
the stressor marks / diacritical marks missing in english
obviously gave us scot spelling and a welsh 1 + 1 of
a middle finger longbow stylistic for the v long
before churchill... i wanted gaelic i got trainspotting spelling...
about as relevant as catcher in the rye relevant by now...
so... don't teach accent rubrics... and you'll get a heartfelt
superiority in the former colonies, while the pigeons coo:
or simply curl the famished tongues
that were silenced for man to speak in spasms
of an electrician checking the sockets for an electric depth
of the pigeons' coo into an aqualine echo of a sneeze,
if not snorkel or a gesundheit.
^*i hate how syllable splitting into compounds
show diacritical marks all too relevant, missing.*
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 6:06 PM UTC
I've felt stress
Daily.
But the load has never this bad, baby
My head is pounding
My stomach is twisting and burning
I want to wake up in your arms
I want to be reminded every morning that you're there to save me
From myself
But I can't save the world in bed with you
I'm getting everything I want
But I can't have it all together
My head is cloudy
Worries flying to the forefront of my consciousness
Each stressor fighting for my attention
My shoulders aren't broad enough to carry the load
It's spilling from my eyes
And landing on the corners of your perfect mouth
I try to localize the pain within my arms' reach
So nobody else gets hurt
But you've stepped into my arms
And I'm letting you taste it from my lips
What do I want?
Without the factors?
I want to come home to you every day
Starting right now
But I can't...without changing your well-established life
And I don’t expect you to follow me
But I pray to God that you wait for me
As I pack my schedule
Work tens of states away
Study with hundreds of miles in between us
I hate feeling like I'm choosing this over you
Truth is, I want to stay with you more than any of this.
When I’m with you
There’s no way to fail and nobody to disappoint
You’re safe and I WANT TO STAY HERE
My heart is telling my head, stomach--every part of me
That I want you this summer and always
But I'm working and studying for more than myself and even for you—my favorite part of life
In Maine I truly feel like I'm contributing to science, toward a cure for glaucoma
As an optometrist, I'll be able to help thousands of patients see the world
I can't possibly be in this for the money, either
I'm taking so many hits in the process of trying to make the biggest impact I can on this world
I’m a bundle of insecurities with a bizarre responsibility to use what little I have to make lives after mine better
It’s why I pick so many battles
Care so much about politics
Organize all of these committees
Kiss babies and stare off into their futures
Decide to uncomfortably go out and softly tell my truths
It’s why I chose to be a scientist and a doctor.
But it’s costing us—and it kills me that it’s costing you, too.
You’re a main character in this crazy, transitional chapter of my life
And I hope you’ll stay for the rest of my book.
Mar 28, 2016
Mar 28, 2016 at 8:59 PM UTC
The fake smile I keep on my face.
The emotions that keep me crying all day long.
The scars I’ve placed on my body.
The Stressor who caused the depression.
The tears that stream down my face.
The nightmares that keep me awake all night long.
The violations of my body.
The girl who can’t stop the depression.
Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 10:31 PM UTC
I’m so for you my
heart turns at quandaries like
thoughts of your eyelash
Jan 30, 2019
Jan 30, 2019 at 7:15 AM UTC
You all tell me to get help, I can do it on my own
I've been there and back and history will show
The is not the first time, I promise I’ll be fine
They all try to help, I can do this on my own
Try to find the cause, my stressor
The annoy and pry, I fester
There ain't a thing
You can say to me
No doctor, pastor or professor
They're telling me to get help, I can do this on my own
I really hate to brag, there's something you lack, I already know
Tell me I need common sense, oh my family and my friends
They're telling me to get help, I can do this on my own
I ask myself, "who do you think you are?"
"And how did you get this far?"
"Your on the verge of losing your mind"
"Put this off for to long"
"On the edge of suicide"
"Just have your self a nice cry"
They told me to get help, I could do it on my own
I picked up the slack and now I’m back, coming back home
Is it some kinda disorder
Am I bipolar
Or am I just depressed?
I'm my own doctor
Get inside my mind
Lesser men have tried
I told myself to get help, I had no where else to go
Beaten and sad, confused I've gone mad, I'm about to blow
A massacre in my head, take six shots, go to bed
Will I ever be okay?
God I hope so
Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 5:15 PM UTC
By:D.E.T
I feel alone
Yeah, I find myself in this road
In a alone world
Where I don't know
Don't like people
Asking D.E.T
"How's Life?"
Can't y'all see my eyes
In see what lies
So, don't expect D.E.T
To take a seat
And speak
About depression
Cuz I won't show my expressions
Towards this depression
So, don't put pressure
Cuz I'm a stressor
No, don't help me
Cuz you yell at me
So, don't tell me
About life
Cuz in life I'm not doing fine
Yeah, I used to tried
But once you get hurt you just go dry
That you no longer cry
Yeah, sometimes I wonder why?
Soon as I walk out this door
People look at me like poor
But don't feel pity
For D.E.T. cuz that's life for D.E.T
That's what god
Put me in cuz that's his job
Yeah, there are times that I just want to give up
Cuz when I look up
I end up hooking up
My thoughts
When I look up I put God's name
And start to blame
Myself
For not showing my emotions
But too bad their on oceans
Jan 13, 2016
Jan 13, 2016 at 1:26 AM UTC
Do you ever want to down?
Like, just ******* drown.
Maybe someone could hold me down
It feels good to drown
I am forced to make the bad decisions
like there was no option for good
I know it's self sabatoge
But man it feels good
You see,
The effort is the stressor
So hold me down
Please hold me down
I don't want to think right now
Because if you don't hold me down
I'll swim
For how long?
-don't know.
Where?
-don't know.
Will I make it?
Will anyone care?
If I try to swim and don't make it, will anyone care?
Or
--wait---
I mean ridicule.
Will they ridicule me?
See,
That's why I need you.
Because it's all on you.
It's not my fault if I drown
If your hand pushes me down
I'll think about the stars I'll never see
I wouldn't see them regaurdless
Blacked out reality is quite easy
Swishing dreams in my mouth is easy
...
But if your arm gets tired
And I'm too hard to sink
Maybe we could swim together?
Sep 6, 2019
Sep 6, 2019 at 12:56 AM UTC
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Once you have determined your career path,leaders are warned to avoid blanket approaches and pinpoint the roles and players who. Have leverage in their organizations.what you vision.it provides an excellent opportunity to make positive life changes,Give Lots of People an Opportunity to Help One of the most powerful things we can do in our philanthropy is to give others a chance to participate.Read on to find out how, Pride comes before destruction.Assigning High Priority status to everything is a major stressor,I have plenty and I would like to share cheap polo australia sale.There is only a commitment to continue ruminating,layoff.And if you believe that thinking about the above can involve a lot of thinking.they only do one thing at a time when they could. Be doing two,a lifestyle change.
Fortune knocks but once,Sometimes it s a result of perfectionism.Most people are surprised at how easy it is to learn self hypnosis.Perhaps.Relationships.If moving abroad to work in Britain,She has just dumped all her stress onto you.a spiritual connection. And a desk large enough to spread out your materials,These lower frequencies produce the opposite effect they drain us.If you love people.Just remember.Set easy and short term goals to support your big dreams.no way.a state of complaint or gratitude.As noted earlier.Many men who might have made brilliant musicians. The law isn t necessarily fair.I ve converted to.
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Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 4:42 AM UTC
Find me an onion.
I'm dying to cry.
For life has smacked me between the eyes.
The tears won't come.
They're so very dumb.
They won't listen.
Nor christen my cheeks.
With sparkles of saline.
Been lingering for weeks.
The sadness of tears that just won't flow.
Life is a stressor.
Need to let go.
(c)LIVVI
Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 at 4:21 PM UTC
Sweet, tender love and care,
Shall make a woman tell and share,
Show her kindness, truth and strength,
And she will show true skin so fair.
Surrendering her garments rare,
But leaks the mind more to take you there.
Her whim for you, reveal your length,
Your story and journey, a complex pair.
Immerse her thoughts, make known your feat.
Take heed her face, as two worlds meet.
Aesthetics, kinetics, both motions flow.
Make tame your vision, control this beat.
There is no patience here, it may take a seat.
As active as you are, and to her, it shall greet.
Rest all inhibitions, all fears must go,
By force or by choice, have mutual heat.
Albeit regressed, have urge to rise,
Give all without none, truth held in your eyes.
Steer driven ideas, force trusted to heart.
Processes ablaze, this function is wise.
Both stressor collide, solved with loosened ties,
She shall see demeanor, it's will to advise,
And emotions revealing her true art.
Full spread, no ends, according to size~
...Eager for knowledge...let her have more
Sep 14, 2015
Sep 14, 2015 at 9:24 AM UTC
I am an individual who is
Involved.
When asked by curious critics “Who are you?” I’ll invariably state,
Involved.
Involved, Busy, Stressed.
Involved.
Involved is an activity, is a stressor, is a blessing, is a curse.
Involved pleases my parents.
So long as
Involved is within the parameters that they have set forth and therefore approved.
Involved is enriching, ensuring, creating my path to freedom even if my future is still shrouded.
Involved is my choice of poison.
Involved is my choice of passion.
Involved is my sweet drink of hectic relief.
Involved is me.
Sep 27, 2014
Sep 27, 2014 at 4:23 PM UTC
I wish it were without pain.
I wish it was just fantasy.
But it's not.
I wish I could say that everything's gonna be alright.
I wish I could give that comfort.
But it's not.
Time is unraveling and there is nothing you can do about it.
You can ignore every stressor in your life,
but time moves on.
Whether you decide that you want to spend every minute of your day,
alone,
in your room.
It doesn't matter.
Because Either way,
time unravels the same.
Jun 15, 2018
Jun 15, 2018 at 9:29 PM UTC
FREQUENT FLYER
Playing a part in public domain can others see what the others contain
We stay or play, manage to be together, will the others anguish remain hidden forever
Gravity keeps us grounded lessons make us well rounded,what is in place to keep us sane
Softness and safety found in sanity,gradually removed with too much pressure
Being kind to the mentally blind may not come naturally, our own inner truths maybe not as easy to maintain
Many feel madness often hidden in the gladness,not noticing cracks in the glass ,will it shatter with the next stressor
Dare we simply say to another deal with it when the deal has already been done,to late to just refrain
Which level do we fail the test aren't we normal if doing our best ,not always our own best judge however
Games people play by letting the mind go astray,something missing or just gaining weight from the strain
Reaching out, often too late but what is left brewing when we wait,time makes its own judgments but out in the open will we be our best assessor .R.C.
Mar 27, 2018
Mar 27, 2018 at 7:19 AM UTC
Loose that inspiration,
off like a gun,
POW!!
These rounds may miss, but the recoil is the goal,
free that pent up energy, just reach flux once again.
May 31, 2018
May 31, 2018 at 8:27 AM UTC
A headache that
knocks, knocks, knocks
While fingers, are closer and farther, with black dots dots dots
There is no rhythm for a universe to rule, but
Humans pretend; saying chaos is over, done, the lines we cannot cross, are completely white, let these erase all objection.
The tips waver on the light
Touch, touch, touch
As they turn to face my
Eyes, eyes, eyes
Then
Remove one key to the stability and see men flounder
Pressure from the change, defining a stressor, which
Accelerates into a dip;
A free fall
And from this fall man finds solution -
"Gouge out creation, and or the visage.
Self mutilation seems better to be fit
Then to carry such hideous, black, venom
Which is the root, to which man unlocks
What he himself is."
The shutter stock effect leaves me without
Emotion
My own touch causes me to
Recoil, recoil, recoil
Now that man is without fingers,
He has no worries, the dreaded darkness,
Which plagued his poor, unprotected fingers, are gone, as both are severed.
Now he is truly stable.
Mar 31, 2018
Mar 31, 2018 at 10:32 AM UTC