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epistle log 17venteen
she's here
the storm has arrived
so here i sit as the last tea leaf quits its support of my open eyelids and the lightning solarizes the page (sabatier looks on wryly) whilst a dragonfly battles the incessant drip drop assault. the world has gathered too much energy: tension and pressure now lash out into the void of the heavens, dispersing themselves into oblivion and obliteration. the smell permeates as the hand dances upon the lightless page, moving to the music of cleft air and the repercussions of the empty damp dark ballroom. rain hisses and rolls from the page in shadows as the black void descends from the clouds through the hand eye pen to cross lines and cement itself: a proof of all these intangibles. puddles grow in the dim light and drooping eyelids as she passes over through around me, indifferent as long as i continue to build the energy tension pressure that keeps her
and i do.
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