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literature

We of Knowing

insomaniac55's avatar
By insomaniac55   |   Watch
1 0 253 (1 Today)
Published: March 19, 2014
We of knowing make the reaction,
willing to take an evolving imaginary
hand upon the rules, realizing of a learning
of the purest rule, the one with conditions
to be afraid of our pen, our declaration
on a notebook in our mind, the half questions
that become full answers of oblivion, nurturing
new concepts to impregnate the framework
that makes the rulebook, replace evidence
with internal facts within the “we” that others create,
within the whether you believe it or not,
but are extremely willing to double the risk of a rule.
But are you the unchanging wonder, the application
of never-ending complexity battling the true rules,
disassembling existing laws of your human nature
and putting, in the spine of a new book, the thing
that we need, A secret law set to seasons
necessary to survival. Will that reimagined codex exist,
And will we of knowing take the intertwining possibilities
and write, with certainty, a new rulebook?
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I am the girl who hides between moth eaten paper backs And slips into bookstores and devours leather bound spines I am chloroform lips bitten down, red and rosy Ink stained finger tips that fold book pages between my pupils I'm the girl who drowns herself in coffee and cough drops While remaining curled between Tennyson and Steinbeck Wasting days wondering why grass is green And how it can be greener for others and not I Then I realized its all artificial food colouring And polystyrene picket fences Sticky notes yellowed at the edges reminding myself how to smile I've pasted them on my skin in makeshift paper Mache armour But l
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© 2014 - 2019 insomaniac55
It's been a while since I've dropped one of these, and I'm very rusty but a friend posted something on the internal rulebook within all of us. It stuck in my head for a while so I decided to make something of it. I used a cut-up machine to disassemble and put it together with tweaks. 
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Just me.
You always say that nothings ever good enough but you need to stop comparing me Because: I'm not her. I'm not him. and I can't be what you want me to be. I struggle, ad I struggle to find that perfect place that's just mine. But I know that if I do nothing will ever been good enough for you. I'm not her. I'm not him. and I can't be what you want me to be. I can only ever be just me. Some nights I wander, wondering if I'll ever be good enough. But as I look upon the sky there's nothing there asking for me to change. So I'll just realize that I can only ever be just me. Because, I'm not her. I'm not him.
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I am the girl who hides between moth eaten paper backs And slips into bookstores and devours leather bound spines I am chloroform lips bitten down, red and rosy Ink stained finger tips that fold book pages between my pupils I'm the girl who drowns herself in coffee and cough drops While remaining curled between Tennyson and Steinbeck Wasting days wondering why grass is green And how it can be greener for others and not I Then I realized its all artificial food colouring And polystyrene picket fences Sticky notes yellowed at the edges reminding myself how to smile I've pasted them on my skin in makeshift paper Mache armour But l
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