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Every day I would write
like a primal scream,
seizing the pen like a form
of violence – in silence.
I would marvel at how
my hand moved as
though possessed by
a whirlwind over letters
of sand, falling into a
configuration, like
components falling from
the sky, landing fully
formed. I was working
on extensive stories,
training my mind to pick
up yesterday’s energy
at will, in order to infuse
into today, which I
found to be quite challenging,
but spoke to the potential
of the mind. I didn’t miss
one day, having made a
silent pledge with myself,
and taking such things
Deathly serious…
I can see myself in windows -
With the pen a universal:
Rain Sleet Snow.
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