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away from me

and just like that

i faded completely away

desired to be remembered i never have

for i am the melancholic mystic

despair heavy so heavy

furious anger gives way to empty sorrow

reaping a peace too sharp to reap

igniting the loneliness i'm alone

there is no price only consequence

the mystery of genius

no one can tell you

either you know it and are it

or pretense is put on to fake it

and even a clever imitation is superior

to a cheap tasteless impassionate intelligence

true original wit outclasses all intimations

abandon all comparisons for there is only you

only the only the only

the infinite eternal

the Self from which all selves have source

ephemeral and like a flame in the darkness

appear for a while to fade to fade to fade

these days i feel more alone than i ever have in my life

sometimes i realize how much i enjoy it

other times my distance is as far as far can be

and i can feel myself sinking interminably out of reach

as i always have been but also seems i always will be

are you as distant from me as i am from myself

i am so so far away

everyone is so far far away from me

i don't know what to do

it feels i have failed




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I am nothing more than a passing ghost through the dream you call life.


“The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,

Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit

Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,

Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.”

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