Mythology Expects Knowledge to Grow ~ Sunday, June 28, 2026
She slept on the idea of yesterday
Sleep is a habit-forming drug of choice
however, when I cannot sleep, the muse
elicits words from a dark place, from dreams
selective hearing allows for one voice
left from the cacophony of noises
embrace the voice within that nightmares choose
perhaps they dream of work, of voiceless screams
tomorrow I awaken as today
on my birthday, life full of surprises
nothing lasts as long as a dead friend, dear
thankfully, I am not homicidal
however, imagination, I fear
elicits strategies of a bridal
interference plan, jilted, as they say
despite the longing for love, desire
ends up channeled with suppressed emotions
action is decisive when repeated
only sati, a bride on the pyre
forms societal expectations cast
yes, on the idea that love like oceans
embodies the force of arms defeated
successfully by hungry ghosts, by thoughts
turned by a lathe, ancient as the Near East
except poison from a well cannot sit
remembering how still it must become
defeated at the altar of gods fit
and well to be hog-tied, thrown into scum
yes, my friend died, I muse about my doubts
Sleep is a habit-forming drug of choice
however, when I cannot sleep, the muse
elicits words from a dark place, from dreams
selective hearing allows for one voice
left from the cacophony of noises
embrace the voice within that nightmares choose
perhaps they dream of work, of voiceless screams
tomorrow I awaken as today
on my birthday, life full of surprises
nothing lasts as long as a dead friend, dear
thankfully, I am not homicidal
however, imagination, I fear
elicits strategies of a bridal
interference plan, jilted, as they say
despite the longing for love, desire
ends up channeled with suppressed emotions
action is decisive when repeated
only sati, a bride on the pyre
forms societal expectations cast
yes, on the idea that love like oceans
embodies the force of arms defeated
successfully by hungry ghosts, by thoughts
turned by a lathe, ancient as the Near East
except poison from a well cannot sit
remembering how still it must become
defeated at the altar of gods fit
and well to be hog-tied, thrown into scum
yes, my friend died, I muse about my doubts
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