stomach stirring, rumbling, burning! too much nothing
to digest—the empty spaces, the vacuum
of the mind, and all its illusions
to digest—the empty spaces, the vacuum
of the mind, and all its illusions
airs and graces
haunting the hollow soul—
ah, hear! hear! listen to the beatings of the heart, the heart that resembles
the eye of a madman—or a cynic
but
is there anything else
to love? who knows—
must be the oxymoron of life as love
but
is there anything else
to love? who knows—
must be the oxymoron of life as love
never deify a dead heart
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