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Screaming feelings of meaningless life,

all reality seemingly dreamed,

endless days filled with Nausea's strife

and nothing at all as it seemed.

Premonitions of death ever present

and of endings to come much too soon,

all springs of hope like a desert

passion's world as devoid as the moon.

Reasons for living escape me,

the terror and fear not to know.

Adrift and alone on this journey,

a speck in any wind that may blow.

There's really no beacon to follow,

for one who is dammed to such fate,

a body, but inside just hollow,

out of time, bid by gods just to wait.

Wait for the lightning to strike you!

Wait for the clouds to drift by!

No matter whatever may seem true

all of life's meaning waits till you die.


You want to know

how I feel about

the plants?

I'll tell you.

I will die in Orchids


In the beginning was darkness.
And Silence.
Darkness knew.
But was not known.
Darkness wished to be known.
Not worshipped.
Not feared.
This wish of Darkness became light.
A light that gave birth to all things.
Visible and Invisible.
I am light.
You are light.
Everything is light.
To know Darkness is to love the light.

Poems: Work
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