from now on I mail it in
seems like it's all gone. whatever magic was, gone; whatever's left, missing
that idling spark, a
map of a mind, my mind, my heart
magic. huh. a propensity for what's trite. music is a better analogy.
notes, accumulating notes,
what's missing is what was, before, a persona
what's left is not much of rage or striving; at least
I hope; best to take note from the Way which says
the wheel with 30 spokes is useful only in the empty space at center.
this page is that empty space; no, I am;
and if that were true; but
I still want it both ways. I cant lie; that's
what else you need
to know
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