This doesn’t feel worth it any more. 

I don’t feel worth it any more. 

How is it that the pillars on which my worth rested are now crumbling apart? 

Are they made of shortbread?

Am I made of shortbread? Why am I being pinched?

Loneliness is a blanket in which now I lie in satiety.

For expectation in entirety has burned itself away.

A lonely guard I am. 

Protecting my soul. 

For everything else I have is floating over an ocean as I speak. 

I just want to succumb to this. Succumb to this desire to be one with nature. 

A desire I had a few years ago. 

I have it now. Yet again. 

It doesn’t seem worth it. Fate has played many a cruel game with me. 

Tempting me, making me joyous, then crushing me. 

I am nauseated now. 

Tired of being suffocated under man’s constructions. 

All I want to do is to liberate myself.

Let my soul sashay with the wind.

Let me leave this prison and run free. 

Let human knowledge rot and human corpses decay.

All I desire is my freedom.

Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is:

What if my leaves are falling like its own!

The tumult of thy mighty harmonies Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone,

Sweet though in sadness.

Be thou, Spirit fierce, My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one!

Drive my dead thoughts over the universe Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth!

And, by the incantation of this verse, Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth

Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind! Be through my lips to unawakened Earth

The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind, If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind? 



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