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Once upon a time~

a little girl was upset.

She found out there were

people paying for sentiment,

so she took it upon herself

to offer friends her gratitude

with

imagination.

She has not stopped writing since.

From fairy tales to journals to short stories to

poetry to short stories to lyrics

to poetry, to poetry, to poetry,

to note-taking, to note-taking,

to journals and note-taking,

to thoughts and ideas and

journals and poetry

and note-taking.

When is she a writer?

When will she be

officiated, ordained?

This is the seed growing,

for this is the crux of it all.

The magic, nay,

the hidden secret. Could

it possibly be, can’t you see,

it is her that decides?

And it comes deeper,

with the deeper truths

explored. For what

is the core

but what’s been before?

And it is you that must agree,

you see,

for neuroses to flee,

but don’t despair, for she

partakes in the ever-growing

face of potentiality, in which

nobody can decide but she.

And once decided,

she is a force of

determination, a storm

perhaps, a voice

calling from the centermost

point of the universe,

Will incarnate,

Better in flux~

the Happening.

She is a writer~

always will be, possibly,

but this is not all,

just merely a scratch,

for that cannot be all,

each speaker needs

a mouthpiece.

But electricity!

The source of me,

transformative energy,

comes from Her,

courses up and out,

pussy-synthesize,

pre-dominantly wet between my thighs,

bursting forth, she sees,

“Eternity

speaks through me,

so how I can be wrong?

Why not sing my song?

and laugh and cry

mesmerized all the while.

Nothing is as sturdy

as a life built on dreams”.

Or so it seems,

and so it goes,

in the depths and the hollows,

she follows

the darkness

with her knife

and her fortune,

on the warrior’s mission:

Visita interiora Terrae rectificando invenfies Occultum Lapidem.

So she dives back into the process,

regeneration,

take a bit of this,

some of that,

and integrate it,

unification,

she slips

like a serpent

in the sand of a desert,

back and forth,

and around,

up and down,

round and

round and

round she goes.

Where she

stops,

nobody

knows.

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