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Literature Text
Dear: Miss. Musica
My mind is racing, images of lights and euphoric shapes
Misrepresentative of memories and feelings brought to life within
Like a hole.
I am spinning now, in this world of gaseous nonsense
Forgetting why and whence I came
Play strong the role of story teller, a peddler of thoughts to some
A role of a mannequin for others, plastic falseness hidden behind the dodging retorts
A fairy tale of ones and zeros found with twenty or so
Remember, trustworthy is such a word, as you would write.
Matchbook struck, Reality ignites
A falsehood found only within the hearts of readers everywhere.
Spell me your letters, I'll have writ them already
Remember, Time is only the Space between.
I miss you, my lady of song
The tone of chord struck with a whisper
The lingering essence of misfortune
I am disease
Like a hole
I'll ingest it all, and steal your curtain call my love
Impatiently awaiting that familiar sound, something I cannot even put to name
A lost fragrance, a touch-less abrasion
The sounds of chords, lost to the wind
Come, let me infect you,
For your apathy,
Is the vaccine to my passion,
Darling.
My mind is racing, images of lights and euphoric shapes
Misrepresentative of memories and feelings brought to life within
Like a hole.
I am spinning now, in this world of gaseous nonsense
Forgetting why and whence I came
Play strong the role of story teller, a peddler of thoughts to some
A role of a mannequin for others, plastic falseness hidden behind the dodging retorts
A fairy tale of ones and zeros found with twenty or so
Remember, trustworthy is such a word, as you would write.
Matchbook struck, Reality ignites
A falsehood found only within the hearts of readers everywhere.
Spell me your letters, I'll have writ them already
Remember, Time is only the Space between.
I miss you, my lady of song
The tone of chord struck with a whisper
The lingering essence of misfortune
I am disease
Like a hole
I'll ingest it all, and steal your curtain call my love
Impatiently awaiting that familiar sound, something I cannot even put to name
A lost fragrance, a touch-less abrasion
The sounds of chords, lost to the wind
Come, let me infect you,
For your apathy,
Is the vaccine to my passion,
Darling.
Handcuffed behind the back close-up
If you love handcuffs behind the back, in arresting positions, and really good CLOSE-UPS, enjoy my shares. Handcuffs, ropes, even NO bondage; I only focus on women's hands shown behind "PALMS OPEN,"
and showing more femininity. None of this tied "PALMS TOGETHER. Prayer position" nonsense. where is the fun in that? 🤷
Thousands of divs to share
$5/month
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Comments1
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You have gotten quite a bit better since last we wrote together.
You're using new and vivid imagery, and it's coming to life a lot more than ever. The themes are repeating, and that's normal, all of our songs and poems were essentially about the same root meanings and ideas, but these new words bring them into a new light.
You've come miles, brother.
You're using new and vivid imagery, and it's coming to life a lot more than ever. The themes are repeating, and that's normal, all of our songs and poems were essentially about the same root meanings and ideas, but these new words bring them into a new light.
You've come miles, brother.