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lost in a name is a being, unable to grasp itself by a single fragment of syllables, unable to be in one word, one thought. four letters are me, four letters are my humanity. falliable language you shame us with your system! i won't let you name me, call me nothing, call me with the unconscious strength of an army ten thousand telepathics strong. read my story as i write it, anticipate with me the next expanding moment, dont talk. dont you dare attempt to capture the immensity of soul, you shame it! i have no name, i am nothing, and you can never catch me. i am the wind, just a feeling, fleeting; now fluttering in your hair now lost, a memory for you to create, and recreate, and believe. believe in a being, create it as you will with neurological connections, create it as you will everytime you think of me. let's live in memory; meandering streams of thought unspoken held closer to heart than any sensory reality, the surreal is closer to the clouds, the heavens, infinity let's live in the shamanistic wisdom of absurdity. (afterthought: ironic to write the uselessness of language...self-reflexivity is my personal comedy) Listening To: Bob Dylan -- The Freewheelin Bob Dylan
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