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    dotsJournal: dots
    Mood: The Usual

    ...Created 2017-01-29 03:09:14

    dotsJournal: dots
    Mood: The Usual

    Taylor White

    ...Created 2016-11-19 10:22:49

    dotsJournal: dots
    Mood: The Usual

    I'm back. :)

    ...Created 2016-10-02 13:03:53

    dotsJournal: dots
    Mood: The Usual

    That feeling when your GPU driver updates and throws your computer off into the deep end for two days. Somewhere along the lines windows had an identity crisis. I had to reset my BIOS too, to a version that's older than the rig itself.

    . . . .

    ...Created 2016-08-03 16:29:31

    dotsJournal: dots
    Mood: The Usual


    There's a kind of confusion in the air;
    everywhere I see gentle smiles
    the beaches profuse with womanly wiles
    in the rivers, children fishing without a care

    and yet above the license plate of a car
    an american made kind of polished brass export.

    ...Created 2016-07-21 12:23:02

    dotsJournal: dots
    Mood: The Usual

    ...Created 2016-07-02 16:29:57

    dotsJournal: dots
    Mood: The Usual

    Irates dialogue about spurious veracities,
         they the heralds of modern philosophy.
            They are men.

    Hydras play in front of mirrors like a Nix's
         inward look finds Mira; they too
            are harbingers of shallow truths.
               They are women.

    Lunacy galore in the land where momes
       are a wanton myriad splayed across
         tors like a fluorescently hued zephyr.
           They are not innocent.
           .sp1. They, our future, are children.

    And the many chimes of the iconoclasts -
       ebbing back onto itself like a beach wave,
         destroying its efforts - are held in
           the vespertine moribund wind.
           .sp1. They are not poets, philosophers or strumpets;
               they are the sigh of change.

    The fundus of cavities, those below mounds, away
       from the Sun. That is I. The echo of Echo;
         the man lost in the abyss, suffering from echolalia -
    That only whispers of I. I is ubiquitous in society,
       the name van-guarding the socialist jihad
         against the world; the threshold of hope keeping
    Life from being less than an iota. I is the tether
       in the seam of the universe, paradox of Jove -
         I is the product of society.
    I am the product of society.

    A poem I wrote a really long time ago. One of those high school style "Explain how "I am the product of society" by way of any creative writing style". It's called Thales, not intentionally after the philosopher (ironically enough). It was meant to be a gibberish title.

    I've been sifting through a lot of old garbage the past couple of days, and it isn't like this stood out in particular, but I think it really encompasses just how closely I missed the point of the things going on in my life.

    C'est tout.

    ...Created 2016-05-16 14:23:33

    dotsJournal: dots
    Mood: The Usual

    True story: there was this cat at the camp I used to go to when I was a kid that had the hugest literal balls I've ever seen on a cat. he'd drag them on just about anything, but particularly the wood that outlined the outer edge of the gazebo-like structure in which we'd do circus-y things. I remember because I spent a lot of time trying to use only my heels to hang from a trapeze and there he was, looking me dead in my upside-down eyes, rubbing his balls on wood.

    ...Created 2016-05-13 01:55:53

    dotsJournal: dots
    Mood: The Usual

    I'm sipping that guaranteed income kool-aid --
    I'm not slick enough as is with my Sophocles
    sitting on a lawn chair with my feet floating
    in a kiddy pool. damn right there's beer too.

    Am I a lazy socialist or a goodhearted
    economic reformist? it doesn't matter I suppose;
    the question is just conflating morality and duty.
    could I dig a grave with my bare hands?
    the pain of it will make me cry.

    ...Created 2016-04-26 07:07:47

    dotsJournal: dots
    Mood: The Usual

    There's a pervasive indolence inherent
    in understanding too many a thing,
    a evasive inability to decide
    which side or camp you belong in:
    is it self-effacing objectivity
    or the all seeing eye of the subject?

    Science makes of understanding a simple harlot
    that he crassly handles, brute-forcing his way
    to climax by invariably examining each individual
    variable. Literature, on the other hand, waits
    patiently for her prey, stalking by the law of letters:
    that there is, in each place or moment, a word
    that is right above all others, that is choice
    like none other. You wouldn't be able to tell
    philosophy is their progenitor; it makes more sense
    to just call it their child. a motherless child
    fed by the desultory tit of the mind these maniacal
    imperatives with no names or faces, simply instinctual
    impetuses. a rather meaningless circlejerk.

    ...Created 2016-04-22 03:28:11

    Be kind, take a few minutes to review the hard work of others <3
    It means a lot to them, as it does to you.

    Suffer The Children written by poetotoe
    Comme un lion en avril written by Outlaw
    Records I written by Raphael
    Carry written by saartha
    I, Plutarch written by HisNameIsNoMore
    Life is moments written by Ramneet
    Redemption written by poetotoe
    Delicious Stews written by elephantasia
    Shi written by ShyOne
    Reliquary of Writ written by HisNameIsNoMore
    The Old Mill written by Wolfwatching
    winners circle written by ShyOne
    Coversheets written by TheStillSilence
    (Untitled Song) written by TeslaKoyal
    Lost Inside the Race written by ForgottenGraves
    Lilitu written by endlessgame23
    The Unicorn written by BlazeFlamme
    Dream written by closetpoet
    The World written by jjd
    Tartarus written by endlessgame23
    Shut Up written by annie0888
    When Sirens Whisper written by HisNameIsNoMore
    Supernatural Cowboy Sleuth (3) written by endlessgame23
    i've missed written by mysalvation
    I AM THANKFUL FOR written by Ramneet
    Cover written by saartha
    Day 5 written by TheStillSilence
    Supernatural Cowboy Sleuth (1) written by endlessgame23
    The Poems Death written by Mepoduo
    Love written by saartha




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