A broader understanding spilt through the cracks
Poured through,
Pored over
But initially, accidentally
I opened up, my brother
Or at least found reason
And now sit-
A yesterpast-
Less vacant
More fulfilled
More enlightened
But less alive.
The numb-drum moments our debauchery
Inclined us to graves -pre-humously-
Inclining us to states debilitating…
Yet invigorating.
For was it not today in the half death
(Not the Petit Mort)
That I did not waver.
I stood profound
And let the criticism wash over me:
Not insulted- but defined.
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