Monday, August 13, 2012

Scales Shall Fall From Thine Eyes.

 My writing like my life will have errors, yet the only person whom I am capable of pleasing is myself; flawed by nature, an overachiever, drunken binges, drunk on the river Styx. 
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I am “thine own palace”, the world is my jail. “Angel’s sinn'd first, then devils, and then man”, I am a man of my sins, a sin of one man. 
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Expression my expression, damned of the damned. I am that I am, damned of the damned. To hell with form, let it die with tradition; expression of my expression prerequisite of permission. Conform! Deform! Rules for the twisting, be warned, Muses know no form exempt from permission.
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 "For it is ultimately the function of art; to bring us to a condition of serenity, stillness, and reconciliation.” Not chide, bicker, and snicker for fear of humiliation.  "For it is the function of art; to bring us to serenity, stillness, and reconciliation." Not chide, bicker, and snicker for fear of humiliation.

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