55 lines
2.7 KiB
Plaintext
55 lines
2.7 KiB
Plaintext
_______________________________________________ _________________
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\_ __ \_ \ / \ / \_ \ | __/ ____/ \ | \| | __/
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_| |/ / = \| |/ = \| / | ___/_ _ | | | /___ _
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\________/___|___\__|_|__/___|___\_____|______/|_| \__|__|\__|_____/|_|
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======================== "The name speaks for itself!" ========================
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Poetic Rantings
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http://surf.to/damage_inc
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damage_inc@disinfo.net
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===============================================================================
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16 Hours of Hell and Bliss.
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Writing sixteen hours... exploding in emotional outbursts. Not breaking away
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from pen and paper. Not wanting to stop and eat, sleep, shave or shower. At
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times feeling trapped and confined. At others, it's bliss. A paradox... like
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the world in nirvana perpetually amiss. Ironic that I even choose to do this.
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Cliches fill my head as it aches for rest. Caught between a rock and a hard
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place. Looking up at the sheer rock face... of majestic mountains. Standing
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tall but feeling so utterly small... at its brooding base.
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There I go... off on a tangent again. Ranting on pages. Releasing energy
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relentlessly. When will this bliss come to an abrupt end? Will this be the
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final hour? So very weary now... So overpowered.
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Time bends. Night is eclipsed by day... usurped by dawn. In the sixteenth hour
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I finally give in. Sleep awaits. The moment has passed. I miss the feeling
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that's now only a memory... Gone.
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With inspiration exhausted... I'm left only with tiredness. Unsatisfied with
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what I've written. Mind and body feeling like they've somehow been accosted.
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Sweet words escape me... Lost.
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But all's well. All's hell.
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And now I don't feel much like writing. The moment faded away. The words are
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gone like a fleeting summer. Worn down houses with paint peeling. But oh...
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how bitter and cold the feeling. Torment so vicious... and biting. And the
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emptiness so great... Overwhelming words so cruel and slighting.
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This northern land... of wolf and man... ripping right through me like the
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hopeless hours. Hours that only inspiration can devour. Will you be there?
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I'm the one who waits for you... Inspired by truth.
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I can't breathe. Of blood and pain and sorrow. Terrified. I will sleep now...
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in the solace of darkness and shadows. And I will put myself through hell
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again... tomorrow. Endless hours of misery await... without tears or cries.
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This is what I've felt and known. This is my own private hell. So alone...
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This is no oasis!
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Written by BLACKENED / Damage, INC. (C)opyright 2001.
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