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March 23, 2013
What volatile surge can revise what hard confusions might sway or buffet in defiance of such quaint destructive fondness for utter blankness and the terrors we assign to turgid belief systems insisting we never act as ourselves but rely on that which emanates from a place no sane mind might admit for cruel pleasures in deference to nothing but nothing? My heart climbs its own limits to touch your loving, and how my body tires of the battle, how terribly lost the solidity seems in these blank confusions, how distant love feels, how easy it would be to fly away.