And I'm,
Still up writing, trying to achieve some manner of social poetic acceptance, that I might provide an easier life to the only one I love... For without you there is only the depths of dismay, The sways of which I've spent over 30 years of which, lonely.
There is no going back to the eternal fantasy of grace or love... Both are broken valves of eternity, which luck has broken by allowing a view of the key, a life filled with love, kills of death the king of fear and greed, the origin of hatred.
Today I got my first payment as a poet... It was only a pound, but that was much more than anything before this lofty, I won't allow the pretentiousness of pride in day! I am humbled by the seemingly obscene jester of something donating the monetary to the works of my social poetic commentary parade. But I shall spread my vernacular wings and, in doing so, leave out epidermis... As I sit up this late and write.
In lieu of our participation in,
Love
Xx
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