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ErisThere may be a noise in my head, but I swear that I'm listening.It intrudes with its ringing and boasts, 'I'm not letting go easily.'Is this a game, a test of endurance, finesse?When does it end, when I feel it? Or when it's yanked from my chest?Does nature reward this 'endurance'? It remains my best guess.Persistence for sake of resisting this entropic mess.But here I am, I am here, that I am, that I am.I am that, that I am that I'm here;Oh I am, am I? Here? Yes I am.A wandering lust for a brilliant dusk of realized sensation.A satisfactory movement of astral acknowledgement-ation.A fiending for a further soared wanton curiosity.A wanting for a needing more of possible experience seen.Rays of light shine forth, and they're lancing our wills into brilliant crystals.Our thoughts are blown right through the screens upon their imaged stills.Now from me to me, from sea to see, I'll tell me something good.Enjoy this self, O cosmic mote, as really though you should.Know that
BeholdenThe man beheld the rocks before,and felt a feeling rise within.It shook and rippled through his bones,conceptual froth reaching for rim.He sung a quite spontaneous hymn,that he surprised, thought sounded grim.He furrowed his brow, confused at himselfbefore grinning a monstrous grin.The froth had boiled over,his perceptual perspective bent.Hurtling into novel depths,measureless in breadth.Mirth poured in and in and in,this grin of his, relentless,shins forgetting feet belowand finding mental levitation.
YhwOne knows that there's no answer but one feels compelled to ask.The question feels so natural as one goes about their tasks.Some people hit the bottle or the needle or the flaskas the question it consumes them until there's no turning back.You force one to confront you, world, you force one to submit,as one starts to see they're really you, bit by bit by bit.