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To fawn at the skirts of great masters, A notebook by my side under the table, Their crumbs are genus and swords Of melody I will skew across Our best clothes, our skinny jeans; A potion of old blood in bloom. In me are all their rivers convelescing Though I smile as if the thing were nothing. |
First two lines is content, the last 6 are empty and pointless.| Posted on 2015-09-04 00:00:00 | by HisNameIsNoMore | [ Reply to This ] | It's as though you've described exactly what I've been doing as of late. | I've recently moved into a new town, where I have two libraries and ample time to spend on reading. I decided to keep a journal, just to fill with quotes. I've read 5 books in the past 3 days - as I have not had this opportunity for years. And not to mention, I have smiled more often due to this as well. | Posted on 2015-08-21 00:00:00 | by MyPeriodical | [ Reply to This ] | This is a pretty great observation brought modern day with your references. It is hard to exist in the shadows of greatness, hard to define our own voice. | | Posted on 2015-07-06 00:00:00 | by lori_tab | [ Reply to This ] | |