scratching itching papyrus

And, they came onto the lady saying, “Won’t you tell us of your darkness, pleas/e?!”

And, she grinned, ” What darkness? I can show your eyes No-Thing wherever there is no light. What could I glimpse of my darkness, anyhow? I simply embrace it.”

I’m a real kunst of a Kirkegaardian Kant.

They only came in the hopes of eating anguished eyes, anyhow.

What daunts you, motivates me.

What stalls you, puts the spurrs to my flanks.

What spurns you, ewe, encourages me whilst scaring ewes.

So, how could it not be hard for us to meet, one to the other, in the middle?

Where the splinter impales skin from leaden pencils frantically scratching

itching papyrus.

Rubber meeting ridden road,

Bug to windshield; the hood of a jacket grasped against hailing precipitation, frozen.

All in & either or.

And, of course, people who posture by peeking over paperback bios of punk rockers, yet cannot hum a single song, piss me off.

Author: writtencasey

I am fascinated by the scientific endeavor and I read about or engage with those processes as much as possible. I am a compulsive reader and writer. With a background in anthropology and as an arm-chair/backyard scientist, I hope to improve my writing skills and learn about any areas of weakness or misunderstanding in my analytic skills. I am excited to share. Thank you for spending time here. Please reach out if you are so inclined. I'd be excited to hear from you.

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