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I am faceless in the light of the
shadow moon,
Eclipsed by undiscovered dreams,
Primal screams escape my lips and fall silent,
Dieing a subtle death that is the vacuum,
The cocoon that I wrap myself in;
My denials.
What would I be without my excuses?
Once tiny lies, now a mountain summit,
Monolithic nothingness, towering
I am cowering, hidden from even my own fear,
But I am not alone, there is love here;
Twisted love.
This desire is flawed, yet faceted like a jewel, blackened;
Inviting like the sickly invitation of the succubae
Waiting to devour me.
How can I tell when the time is right?
Often I ask…often I wonder how I know anything;
I deny so much.
Time itself is a denial; the wheels keep turning
Despite our apathy, fears, worries and spilt tears; our wars
Wage on and on and we live, lie, fight and die for freedom or tyranny;
Sometimes I know not which is the lesser of two evils,
The truth or the greater good.
So even that I deny; we deny.
Tom Stanley
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