Why do I bother with you? You’ve got me following your trail. You seem to know what I think I want. |
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Freedom gets reconfigured within your wanderings and can no longer stand as an empty signifier. Independence, interdependence, suffering, decision making with Life in the balance — all lead you from word to word. |
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You know nothing of vacations. |
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All living things become partners. The idea of resources is transformed into an indecipherable category. Control wanders off and gets lost. |
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You deploy the prisons of language and perception against themselves, rejecting civilization and its costs. You make a case for the inherent decency of human beings liberated from the cruel injustices of Society.
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You set an enchanting trap for the wild beasts of Doctrine. |
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Even Death is remade through your scribblings, from a harbinger of the end to an agent of the infinite, an integrator of all transience through the illusion of time, the artist of the seasons. |
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Charlatans keep trying to employ you, fertilizing your pages with the rot of their desires. |
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Each sophomoric attempt to imagine Nature as God’s replacement, each claim of a New Age, exposes predatory opportunism, attempts to wring the last dregs of imperial remorse and modern alienation from a purpose-impoverished and slowly suffocating multitude. |
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You outlast these foul violations, even when caught up in your own transcendental rejections of intellect, but the stink can stick for a longtime. |
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I almost didn’t try to know you. |