The boketto begins, no one is to blame.
Your meraki has fallen from your work.
You’ve traveled in silence to keep from
screaming, this fanaa eats away like cancer.
You’ve never reached out for a hand or any smile, yet
your frustration glares back in gruesome
hollowness. Life’s become something more than
you’ve bargained for, you’ve squandered away all
your hopes, and your last dream, vacated by grief.
hollowness. Life’s become something more than
you’ve bargained for, you’ve squandered away all
your hopes, and your last dream, vacated by grief.
Once an oriflamme of misery now the only
embrace of comfort is sunshine. This adoxography
placates your need to be heard or to be accepted. Still,
this Orphic is all you desire, you’re seldom
enthusiastic about some fancy mention of trivial
wares, for your eudaimonia cannot be bought or
secured by some shallow penchant. This genie
won’t return her gift; one must first recognize
one’s despair to begin to love and what keeps you
willfully alive. Death owes no promise to you,
but living in this imperishable hope of retrieving
lost legitimacy is all that is required of this loathsome
placates your need to be heard or to be accepted. Still,
this Orphic is all you desire, you’re seldom
enthusiastic about some fancy mention of trivial
wares, for your eudaimonia cannot be bought or
secured by some shallow penchant. This genie
won’t return her gift; one must first recognize
one’s despair to begin to love and what keeps you
willfully alive. Death owes no promise to you,
but living in this imperishable hope of retrieving
lost legitimacy is all that is required of this loathsome
penance. You’ve lengthened your mind to vast
catharsis, and worrying about death only shortened
catharsis, and worrying about death only shortened
your life.
- John Hardesty
©️1/23/2020
- John Hardesty
©️1/23/2020
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