Some things occurred to me this night.
Nothing is for or about you.
"You are not worth immortalizing."
Previous immortalizations were passing instances of fanciful anger and snow-blind confusion.
It is not I... I have not changed.
My hand still writes, my eyes still strain and I still understand you.
Only I now understand you are not as I once thought or hoped.
The first exultant w**** had a glutton's wealth of lovely attributes in comparison to your wallowing appearance of being strong and intelligent.
The philosopher does not exist in this letter.
The scholar will attain nothing because you are nothing, a forced, reconstituted nothing, which at one time had just potential for beauty and for a soul.
I digress...
had I truly understood you in the beginning, this would not have drudged on for this length.
How was it that I refered to it?
Oh, "the other" or "the third," as if there was ever even a first.
Striking during failure and disappointment.
Hair caught roaming among barbed wire, leaning through to step on unfriendly domestic ground.
I can calculate more points to three but abiding a punisher's rules prevents victory.
Would it be victory?
Even if slain, would it not be victory won?
Some things occurred to me this night.
Nothing is for or about you.
"You are not worth immortalizing."
Previous immortalizations were passing instances of fanciful anger and snow-blind confusion.
It is not I...
I have not changed.
My hand still writes, my eyes still strain and I still understand you.
"Burn, burn, burn, all my blessed children of Sodom, for I created you to suffer savage hatred."
I think even if the first were eternally obtained, the third would remain ablaze.
I am not rambling enough for my own entertainment, but a decision has been made...
for no fear can match this confinement.
Nothing is for or about you.
"You are not worth immortalizing."
Previous immortalizations were passing instances of fanciful anger and snow-blind confusion.
It is not I... I have not changed.
My hand still writes, my eyes still strain and I still understand you.
Only I now understand you are not as I once thought or hoped.
The first exultant w**** had a glutton's wealth of lovely attributes in comparison to your wallowing appearance of being strong and intelligent.
The philosopher does not exist in this letter.
The scholar will attain nothing because you are nothing, a forced, reconstituted nothing, which at one time had just potential for beauty and for a soul.
I digress...
had I truly understood you in the beginning, this would not have drudged on for this length.
How was it that I refered to it?
Oh, "the other" or "the third," as if there was ever even a first.
Striking during failure and disappointment.
Hair caught roaming among barbed wire, leaning through to step on unfriendly domestic ground.
I can calculate more points to three but abiding a punisher's rules prevents victory.
Would it be victory?
Even if slain, would it not be victory won?
Some things occurred to me this night.
Nothing is for or about you.
"You are not worth immortalizing."
Previous immortalizations were passing instances of fanciful anger and snow-blind confusion.
It is not I...
I have not changed.
My hand still writes, my eyes still strain and I still understand you.
"Burn, burn, burn, all my blessed children of Sodom, for I created you to suffer savage hatred."
I think even if the first were eternally obtained, the third would remain ablaze.
I am not rambling enough for my own entertainment, but a decision has been made...
for no fear can match this confinement.