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fascists all, they received in the franchise-mail identical memoranda: diverse fields described by identical terminology, chopping down whole forests of language, entire genealogies of words, just for the noble goal of being bland. here is a day i wish i had a noose to fiddle with, an armament of decoration to sublimate myself by, a cheating symbol, one i have chosen. you know waking life is bad precisely because it makes you forget your dreams: and, like all spells, i mean this literally—fragments uncaptured within minutes get subsumed by the needs of the mundane: this has been observed enough to be believed true. someday we’ll be enlightened enough to truly understand the nature of radiation as well, the way the soul’s sensitivity, like a harp, is mirrored only by the cosmos.

perhaps our planets are in blissful transit today, delighted dancing instead of dueling, for my script-scope warned not to inflict force, and yours—for once—portended positivity if you could only be positive (in the form of your thoughts). so i bade you only to be on your best behavior, to not—as you had so often done, as you had so often learned to do—alienate yourself from grace, from salvation. raised by a pair who failed at playing the game, i never learned how the game was played. i flew to join the anachronistic grind: i joined the train where others dressed to imitate futuroids. my gift, my totem, to you: i’ll give you my spirit, whatever few additional cards i might have to be had from my tragically tight-fisted, heart-bearing sleeves.

Posted 09/16/10
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