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A Quickie
I told myself that I wouldn’t do it again. Get hooked like a fiend, but instead to my pen. Don’t want to write this all down, not again. Because even though one gets out, countless come in. Emotions, feelings, sentiments, and passions all of like design. Impossible to distinguish one from the other at times when they’re not all mine. Like a conduit to the stars, all of the wishes in the world come here and all aren’t benign.
This does seem to be more of a personal flight. With me being the captain, crew and passenger each trying to fight. Or am I the plane in which I fly in this thunderous plight? Being consumed by the vacuum I create in the seamless night. The vacuum being one of the hardest things I’ve yet to learn. That even though helping is good karma, lessons through pain is something we earn. But when playing with fire, eventually you’ll feel it’s burn.
Regardless of how personal this may seem, I’m not alone. At least one other person has gone through this, and even more are prone. Misery loves company, so my existence must be its clone. Congregating with the weak and wounded and holding them down as if I were stone. And yet, I am as soft as pale moonlight on the eyes. At least in an emotional sense, because every time I hear a sad song my heart cries. Don’t mistake this for a cry for help though, because in the end, everyone dies…
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*!.¸(`*!.¸Xero Satsujin¸.!*`)¸.!*
"Laissez les bon temps rouler"
"Time to a writer is like play dough in the hands of a toddler..."
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