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"unsettling" poems
Strong winds may uproot you Unsettle your stoic resignation You will be shaken and stirred Lot of ponderings and doubts In the middle of nowhere When gravity does not give hope Become a fearless traveler Encounter the strong winds No matter where you settle Continue to spread your roots, deeper Your soul is still with you Nothing can stop you from reliving Every unsettling episode Will teach you to be more resilient
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Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 11:18 AM UTC
Strong Winds
My flaws are not pretty. My imperfections are not endearing, my vices are not quirky, and my regrets are not intriguing and elusive. They’re ugly and unsettling; better off buried in the catacomb that is my memory. better off dormant, hibernating through all four seasons. They destroy and ravage anything that they can get their hands on. They spread like wildfire through any self-respect that might be living inside me. Burning up every last trace of my dignity until all that’s left is a shower of ash and things I wish I could forget. They don’t add character or substance and leave me blinded by contempt. They whisper to me that I don’t deserve to be happy. And I listen to them. They’re angry and want revenge.
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Aug 11, 2017
Aug 11, 2017 at 6:12 PM UTC
"Tell me every terrible thing you ever did, and let me love you anyway.”
That appalling desire, makes your heart beat so fast. It’s an unsettling ritual, which refuses to pass. The nagging need to feel something, and make yourself bleed. You must act and do it now, you wait for the great release. One slice turns into more, and you need it to hurt. No one must notice, hence the morbid allure. You can’t stop the impulse, once the fuse is lit. You tremble with sickly delight, after every slit. For now you’re done, carving your skin. Since the need seems gone, even though it doesn’t last long. But at least in those moments, you feel that sweet song.
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Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 11:15 PM UTC
Bleed
it’s unsettling how many people i’ve had to beg to forget me, lately. how many i’ve tried to convince that i really am as insignificant as a stranger you made eye contact with for a moment at the stoplight. for so long i was begging so many people to stay, to keep holding onto me, even if it wasn’t in their best interest. all i wanted was to be selfishly adored. now all i want is to be left alone.
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Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 11:38 PM UTC
go away, i'll be okay
You are the stone thrown into the depths of my river, the subtle unsettling upon my surface. As you sink below my water, don't fear that you may disappear like all the secrets beneath-- from you the stillness in my bones ripples out and echoes sweet from the deepness that lives inside.
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Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 4:23 PM UTC
Skipping Rocks
The way a devoted fan refuses to wash the hand touched by the one they admire, I recoil at the thought of thoughts that may interfere with our most recent talk, close my eyes so no new images hide the sight of your smile, your lips pursed in thought, your thin fingers brushing the wind-blown hair from your face, your leopard print sneakers, your hands in mine.... Or was it mine in yours? This is the dreaded foretaste of suffering. We both know what harm can come from holding on too tightly. We have learned by now that all things are impermanent. Nothing, not even this, should be clung to. We have wisdom on our side, you and I, and this is why we should survive this unsettling flood of love we feel.
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Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 11:14 PM UTC
Love and Wisdom
There is nothing more unsettling than a teenage Christmas. The coming of age when adults find their inner child again and you have to try and get rid of yours. 11 is fine. Part of you still believes Santa put the presents under tree. 12 is also okay, just a little less pixie dust stirs in the stomach on Christmas Eve. 13, 14 and 15 are tricky. You don't want to look babyish by getting too excited, so you shrug it off and ask 'Santa' for a mobile phone, a laptop, a TV, until by 15 you ask for the most 'grown up' present of all. "I just want money." The words burn your lips and tongue like acid, a yearning for the sensation of a gift you can unwrap tugging in your rib cage. You can't buy that. 16, 17 and 18 are Christmases tinged with nostalgia. Little ghosts of the younger you run down the stairs on Christmas morning, feet clad in slippers and Power Rangers pjyamas askew, whilst you follow in procession, almost a funeral. It's not that you don't like Christmas. It's not that you don't love your family. It's not that you don't feel a fire light in your belly when you bite into a mince pie, it's not that the battered Christmas videos your family replay each year don't still make you smile, it's not even that you've gotten too old for it all. Have you? Slippers and tiny fists batter against advent calender doors, begging you to open them. When you're 19  you do. You let them out and let them rush to rip open their presents under the tree. You let them eat their selection box first before dinner. You let them cry when the Snowman melts and you let them laugh and not mock heave when your father chases your mother with mistletoe. You let the ghosts become holograms you can play in your mind like a projector and slides, no longer a need to leave holly by their graves but a chance to remember and smile. You let them be happy.
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Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 10:08 AM UTC
The Puberty of Christmas
There is nothing more unsettling than a teenage Christmas. The coming of age when adults find their inner child again and you have to try and get rid of yours. 11 is fine. Part of you still believes Santa put the presents under tree. 12 is also okay, just a little less pixie dust stirs in the stomach on Christmas Eve. 13, 14 and 15 are tricky. You don't want to look babyish by getting too excited, so you shrug it off and ask 'Santa' for a mobile phone, a laptop, a TV, until by 15 you ask for the most 'grown up' present of all. "I just want money." The words burn your lips and tongue like acid, a yearning for the sensation of a gift you can unwrap tugging in your rib cage. You can't buy that. 16, 17 and 18 are Christmases tinged with nostalgia. Little ghosts of the younger you run down the stairs on Christmas morning, feet clad in slippers and Power Rangers pjyamas askew, whilst you follow in procession, almost a funeral. It's not that you don't like Christmas. It's not that you don't love your family. It's not that you don't feel a fire light in your belly when you bite into a mince pie, it's not that the battered Christmas videos your family replay each year don't still make you smile, it's not even that you've gotten too old for it all. Have you? Slippers and tiny fists batter against advent calender doors, begging you to open them. When you're 19  you do. You let them out and let them rush to rip open their presents under the tree. You let them eat their selection box first before dinner. You let them cry when the Snowman melts and you let them laugh and not mock heave when your father chases your mother with mistletoe. You let the ghosts become holograms you can play in your mind like a projector and slides, no longer a need to leave holly by their graves but a chance to remember and smile. You let them be happy.
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43
I have not grown accustomed to the sound of your messages. Their presence did little to assure, nor did their absence cause unsettling. Today, however, I must admit that I have waited for that bell. My heart salivated at the sound of passing bicycles, hoping finally it was you remembering the love you have left waiting. I wonder: How could you have conditioned me to anticipate something that has never been constant anyway? for j.e. 013115
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Jan 31, 2015
Jan 31, 2015 at 10:29 AM UTC
Did Pavlov's dog ever wait for that bell?
Setting off a rollicking charge… like a waiting rocket to countdown Solo pugilist in the ring… lancing darts at butterflies in cloistered air 10…. 9….  8…. Boxed in from all sides… whichever way turning… meets unsettling walls Notes unseen and unheard… magic windows stripped away… acrylic drips dry 7….   6…..    5…. Tap runs on… letting of foundation-blood…no fear nor fret… yet exacts converse Gentle persuasion to reach shores… hard credence yet so true… all in good time 4….  3….  2…. One vision Two hearts Three kisses.. Forever :) No countdown needed....ever Count to one…only and breathe... It’s all ok all in good time...
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Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 5:08 PM UTC
Countdown
before finding solace in the meadow that lies in your eyes, I found peace in the way silken lavender would melt into an orange & pink sorbet; but as I lie here now, cradled in the comfort of your arms, I find that I dread sunrise   most find the dark unsettling — shutting themselves off when midnight strikes; but in the moonlight, is when we shine the brightest — when we thrive, when we are the most alive
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Aug 15, 2022
Aug 15, 2022 at 2:06 PM UTC
the way you look tonight
Unleash your inner creativity Where the mind and heart Yearns to sketch the exuberance Of the beauty of so many feelings The soft inaudible utterances Of the ink that flows through you Becomes audible in murmurs Louder and louder, they flow Almost at the brink of insanity Giving inspiration to creativity Turmoil so revolutionary Creativity is sometimes unsettling Yet, so encompassing and revealing Truth does find its way
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Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 10:43 PM UTC
Creativity
Rivalries are an excuse for animosity to be abused. A tradition to explain the irrational and depraved. A justification for future insubordination Of logical arguments by the sane. Beasts competed with one another through physical altercations, But we have evolved to call everyone our brother. So why is it that we must see fighting between one another? Why is it that we may not all show that we're lovers? Is there something wrong with the tolerance of each other? Whatever rationalization is created for the promotion of hatred, Should be abolished and ashamed, That it may show its head and become a vein for placing blame, Is unsettling all the same. We are all too similar, and that should not promote altercations of an individual, Rather it should be used as a connection to the familiar. It should be used in stride with the builder Of peace, and a reason for all this nonsense to cease. We have developed into adults, and it is time to show this with amiable results. By citing a rivalry as traditional is exactly the reason It is sinful. One day we may see the end of this spitefully built fence, By breaking down the wall separating far too many of us all. I hope it is my lifetime here, for failing to unite us, is my deepest of fears.
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Apr 30, 2013
Apr 30, 2013 at 5:12 AM UTC
The Rivalry of Rivalries
The skies grow dark, Clouds gathering, Obscuring the sun in an instant. The last stand, One final protest, As defences break, Screams, Pain, Blood, Death, Fills my head, And all becomes clear, Di Ffrin, Di Sstrek, Is my reality, A sweet melody, Unsettling, But sweet, Oh yes! It consumes me, The light leaves, All becomes dark, And all makes perfect sense, They could not help me, There was no way they could, But now I have it, What I need, The realisation, In the darkness, The Purity of Lies.
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Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 11:49 AM UTC
Purity of Lies
I needed to feel her next to me..The pumping of those warm veins and the beating of her exhausted heart. I felt this emptiness, this unsettling chaos in the cracks and holes of my being..It sat ever so restlessly on the brink of death and insanity, whispering taunting words into the tired positive side of my mind causing each piece of my heart to break further and further, deeper and deeper into insanity. I wasn't so sure of how much longer I could sit here with a synthetic smile on this bruised, rough face, just waiting for someone else to find me and rip me from the fists of insanity and put me back together again, someone who could resemble strength in every sense of the word and would know every aspect of the worth in my being..In my mind, I had told myself so many times that none could ever love me the way she had portrayed, the way she had done..and eventually my gullable heart began to believe it. There wasn't anyone else, how could there be when we are destined to only one true love? With each kiss and intricate touch, I felt this shock of aliveness and beauty, a feeling I never wished to forget, never dreamed to have lost..Somehow I found myself in that same cold, dark room wondering where she had went, wondering how could I have lived like this so long..keeping it comfortable not letting all of her in...I gave up so much for a love so strong, but I pushed her away and she began to wear thin. I broke her heart for what broke mine, not purposely, but in a way that not even my mind or heart was realizing...For all it was worth, I entrusted this broken heart to her, hoping she'd know exactly the remedy needed to mend what's been torn apart..and she did. Oh, honey believe me..she did. SHE was the remedy and I was the patient..When she left, she was my demise and I was her mourn. When she gave up, when she walked away not daring to look back, she was afraid I'd see the tears in her eyes and grow weaker to the sound of her footsteps on the cold hard ground, gradually fading into the rain and fog. It broke my heart to watch her leave, she didn't want to, but it was for the best...and each night she tells me.."I'll see you again someday, my love..maybe not tomorrow, or today..but someday." and in that moment my heart cries, for a love that died..and I will never be the same. Until she's home in these weakened arms, strengthening every aspect and complexity of my being, I will forever be naked, stripped of all sense and feeling...Until the day my love returns, I will stay home and wait for her.
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Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 12:51 PM UTC
I Will Wait For Her
I needed to feel her next to me..The pumping of those warm veins and the beating of her exhausted heart. I felt this emptiness, this unsettling chaos in the cracks and holes of my being..It sat ever so restlessly on the brink of death and insanity, whispering taunting words into the tired positive side of my mind causing each piece of my heart to break further and further, deeper and deeper into insanity. I wasn't so sure of how much longer I could sit here with a synthetic smile on this bruised, rough face, just waiting for someone else to find me and rip me from the fists of insanity and put me back together again, someone who could resemble strength in every sense of the word and would know every aspect of the worth in my being..In my mind, I had told myself so many times that none could ever love me the way she had portrayed, the way she had done..and eventually my gullable heart began to believe it. There wasn't anyone else, how could there be when we are destined to only one true love? With each kiss and intricate touch, I felt this shock of aliveness and beauty, a feeling I never wished to forget, never dreamed to have lost..Somehow I found myself in that same cold, dark room wondering where she had went, wondering how could I have lived like this so long..keeping it comfortable not letting all of her in...I gave up so much for a love so strong, but I pushed her away and she began to wear thin. I broke her heart for what broke mine, not purposely, but in a way that not even my mind or heart was realizing...For all it was worth, I entrusted this broken heart to her, hoping she'd know exactly the remedy needed to mend what's been torn apart..and she did. Oh, honey believe me..she did. SHE was the remedy and I was the patient..When she left, she was my demise and I was her mourn. When she gave up, when she walked away not daring to look back, she was afraid I'd see the tears in her eyes and grow weaker to the sound of her footsteps on the cold hard ground, gradually fading into the rain and fog. It broke my heart to watch her leave, she didn't want to, but it was for the best...and each night she tells me.."I'll see you again someday, my love..maybe not tomorrow, or today..but someday." and in that moment my heart cries, for a love that died..and I will never be the same. Until she's home in these weakened arms, strengthening every aspect and complexity of my being, I will forever be naked, stripped of all sense and feeling...Until the day my love returns, I will stay home and wait for her.
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3
I want to possess you. I want the quivering of your throne, The trembling of your bones underneath me. I want beautiful blood to bleed for me. Reach for me from your place _beneath_ me. Between my fingers I want to feel the struggling breaths of your heart, Pinched veins in your throat, And your whimper like a sweet **** In the dark...the dark. The dark in my selfish eyes match the night. The coo in my voice tells you it's fine... Bruises ruin ruined skin, I make you mine. Thin nails along your jaw, Devil's claw. Say it now, say it raw: You are mine. Never let another come near, Nor touch you, taste you. Raging jealousy, I fear. You are my pet who speaks when I say, my dear. On the scent of musk, a predator's lust; I must admit unsettling crime: I'm tired of watching... I'll make you mine. Now beg for me. Rope 'round your wrists, Under my control. You are darling like this. Teeth leave starved greedy marks, Labored torn lips and fingertips Where the sweat pools in the dark... The dark.
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Apr 20, 2018
Apr 20, 2018 at 8:15 PM UTC
I Want to Possess You
That is what I feel lying beside you You breath out and I breath in As soft city lights filter through the curtains We lay in silence arms and legs draped lightly on one another As we drift slowly we begin to melt into one beautifully beating heart In this moment we are perfect We are not meager human souls that are earnest and unsettling We are simply souls who know where we belong Souls that settle into each other without having to struggle to fit We are a melting mixture of overwhelming warmth This is love at its finest
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Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 1:51 AM UTC
Warm
There is something painfully wrong about a mother’s cry. In those seizing moments, while her nose twitches and her eyes bleed red and she lets tears smear jaggedly about her face- there is something so unsettling, so out of place. You perceived her once invulnerable, but now you find that behind her divinity are familiar fears that overwhelm her omniscient mind. When your own Goddess can’t be free from corruption, that even the holy have weak heels and poisoned matrimonies; that is agonizing acrimony.
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Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 3:55 PM UTC
tears of the goddess
Phases of faces, captured moments and instances I pass by, so swiftly, so fleetingly Caught in the crossroads of paradigms and decisions I stood paralyzed, terrified. I meet intense eyes that bore through me, knowing me, knowing us A smile as warm as the sun that has the power to melt me Your presence is strong, comforting…strong, unsettling…strong, terrifying You have me without even trying, you mesmerize me. You bring me to my knees with a sigh, you can crush me with a word. You can bring me to bliss with a touch, you can bring me to ecstasy with a kiss. You command me with a whisper, I am drawn to you You break down my china walls, one by one You undress my layers of failed expectations Of shattered dreams, and broken hearts I stand before you, naked, vulnerable I look away, not bearing for you to see My helplessness, my hopelessness All my imperfections, my fears, my desires. You wipe my tears away, and kiss my bitterness away And yet the fear descends on me…I’ve been here before Fear of hurt, of betrayal, of disappointment Fear that this is all an illusion…or perhaps just my delusion And so I put on a smile, cool and composed Hide behind my fast-paced life, run far away from you Going so fast, so fast…so I won’t think, I won’t feel Until I fall, exhausted, to sleep a dreamless sleep I need the noise, the meaningless clanging For in silence, the longing creeps in… To be in your arms, just us and nothing else… Nothing but warmth and the sound of our hearts beating. So I welcome the numbness, welcome the pain Punish myself for the choice I’ve made in my weakness Someday I will find my happiness, someday I will find my strength Somehow…I will find you again.
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May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 1:32 PM UTC
Someday
Phases of faces, captured moments and instances I pass by, so swiftly, so fleetingly Caught in the crossroads of paradigms and decisions I stood paralyzed, terrified. I meet intense eyes that bore through me, knowing me, knowing us A smile as warm as the sun that has the power to melt me Your presence is strong, comforting…strong, unsettling…strong, terrifying You have me without even trying, you mesmerize me. You bring me to my knees with a sigh, you can crush me with a word. You can bring me to bliss with a touch, you can bring me to ecstasy with a kiss. You command me with a whisper, I am drawn to you You break down my china walls, one by one You undress my layers of failed expectations Of shattered dreams, and broken hearts I stand before you, naked, vulnerable I look away, not bearing for you to see My helplessness, my hopelessness All my imperfections, my fears, my desires. You wipe my tears away, and kiss my bitterness away And yet the fear descends on me…I’ve been here before Fear of hurt, of betrayal, of disappointment Fear that this is all an illusion…or perhaps just my delusion And so I put on a smile, cool and composed Hide behind my fast-paced life, run far away from you Going so fast, so fast…so I won’t think, I won’t feel Until I fall, exhausted, to sleep a dreamless sleep I need the noise, the meaningless clanging For in silence, the longing creeps in… To be in your arms, just us and nothing else… Nothing but warmth and the sound of our hearts beating. So I welcome the numbness, welcome the pain Punish myself for the choice I’ve made in my weakness Someday I will find my happiness, someday I will find my strength Somehow…I will find you again.
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36
My body was found in an autochthonous cranny stinking of death, between the hookers legs; burned with a magnesium flash- of the bulb popping. It illuminates mere shapes resembling humans only remotely; the way a copse of bracken burnt conifers' resemble matchsticks.
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Dec 15, 2010
Dec 15, 2010 at 3:13 PM UTC
Unsettling.
T hough I know the truth H urt still lingers in my breath E mptying out into the street M other to none, sister to one, daughter to two O nly one slight problem, I want to be alone with N othing to bother me, no one to disrupt my S leepless nightmares, taunting day dreams T onight I shall not rest until I find a way to E nd these thoughts, but I will never R est easy, not until I learn the meaning of peace W hat have I become anyway? I s this liar, this thief, this ****** T he person I've always wanted to H onor with the title of my name? I s this black hole swirling inside my chest N othing more than a shell of a human being? W hy do I always end up asking the same questions? I may never really know who I am L ike most drifters and loners and L osers, I may never learn to love myself N othing is worse than not knowing E verything there is to know about oneself, it's V ery unsettling, earth shattering, words don't E ven make sense, strung together in R epetitious strings, dangling from the ceiling S till, a part of me, a very small part U nderstands that my life isn't really about B ecoming who I'm meant to be S ometimes, it's about just learning to I dentify with the face in the mirror, ignoring the D enial that seeps through my heart, I know that E veryone thinks I've lost my head. Well, maybe I have..
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Dec 5, 2010
Dec 5, 2010 at 3:21 PM UTC
The Monster (Acrostic)
If I walk, no one will see it. If I talk, no one will hear it. In this world, my soul is disappearing. Here comes a voice, it whispers so clearly. "My dear boy, this life is not for me. Please take the knife and end your life swiftly. I've been trapped in your body since fifteen. Please let me out, your death will release me. Please do not cry your tears are **** I'm getting ***** somehow, thoughts of my corpse. This is getting unsettling, but I like being aroused.
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Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 4:30 PM UTC
Bloodlust.
Yesterday, clouds gathered in the sky Covering the sun, Yesterday, I saw the ravens fly I saw the squirrels run. The wind stormed on the walls in rage Her fury knew no bounds, Violently she rattled the cage Of the hell hounds. She flew from tree to tree Unsettling its leaves and flowers, A hive that sheltered a swarm of honeybee Fell in the pond, for the frogs to devour. A thunderclap echoed from a distance A prelude to what is to come, Shattering everything in existence Leaving everything numb. Enveloped in darkness The canvas was coloured grey and black, It had an air of stillness Yet, there was something that it lacked. And then it started to rain On the brown soil of the small town, Easing the pain That was hidden behind the smile of a clown. Tanay Sengupta, Copyright © 2019. All Rights Reserved.
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Mar 5, 2019
Mar 5, 2019 at 3:33 PM UTC
Downpour on an afternoon
****** spit on top of a napkin face up in the garbage no better than- peculiar how life turns out... my tea still at the rim of the glass lost all of its steam I no longer- what does it look like inside the mind of a broken one? channel skipping? static? beyond- comprehension what does this mean? I don't understand... ****** spit on a napkin atop the garbage grabbing your attention against your will and leaving an... unsettling feeling with you like the question of what makes a true artist? life. life makes a true artist it is not a choice but what makes a true artist what is art but a bunch of nonsense but even nonsense has meaning what is art but the broken expressions of the broken artist... ? what is a poet but a bent neck? an artist is an ordinary person inflicted in the mind perhaps but this has more adverse effects on the heart in all reality but again... an artist is an ordinary person who's been beaten for so long who's sacrificed everything unappreciated who's been singing the same song unheard who's ran out of communication a new medium is born heralding new information to those who don't need it to those who are better off more healthy in mind an artist is a person who's had enough the one who left ****** spit in the napkin enough explaining.
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Jun 6, 2012
Jun 6, 2012 at 4:47 PM UTC
Patience.