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I think I’m going to die,
tonight, and not some eons later.
It’s not my final battlecry,
but song of an Anti-creator.

With all these memories ajar,
I clearly envision peril;
don’t put me up on the altar –
it’s sunk below ground level.

To all in need of guiding light,
I sing about something greater:
Search for the truth on the inside,
where everyone is Self-creator.

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Midnight Tomorrow

So soon,
11 will be 12-
Full moon
Is looking down the city,
Its light can’t help
The loneliness,
Its overwhelming pity
Of regret.
Such emptiness
Is filling to the brim
You can’t forget.
The shadows
Are cast.
They stretch the skies,
Creating poetry of night:
Forgotten past,
The gallows,
The sorrow in your eyes
You can’t deny.
So, go on:
Disrupt the night.
Stand up and sing
Your heart with thoughts
That hurt the most.
You have to carry on.
And all’s alright.
Remember: not a thing
Is better than you’ve got –
You’ll learn its cost.