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At the end of the day, we all are stories written as cures or curses in people's lives ...
It possibly could be some beautiful curse that develops people's lives.
And some cure that ruins people's lives.
Yes, it might act opposite as some stories are forcefully forged by characters who aren't supposed to be tangled within the chapters in the stories.
Where were these feelings of peace when
I was younger. Back when I overthought
everything and strove too hard for more
than merely enough.
Old man at 80, reflective thoughts,
that Peace even tranquilly resides
within us all, we must endeavor
to find it within us. Shiny objects
can be distractions to the things
that truly matter.
But try not to wait until you are
80 to find this out.
I'd bathe in a sunlit room,
over a silver moon
any day,
To feel the warm magic
of a winter June,
it's a new summer baby,
We may well both be here after midnight,
I'll bring a kiss beneath the twilight
Pull the sun out of the sky

I’m not scared for you to lose me, you meeting a soul is lucky
It’s like you found peace, with a kind of presence
And the language we speak, knowing you, you'd tell
For how loud my heart beats happiness

Just as arms of yours are so strong,
Stretched the same as mine, we hold
Tightly before the day mourns
Twilight laying in your warmth

You get it, how intimate it gets
I'm an easy catch
My words become your words, they come easy like breath
I’m curious to learn you, and the surrender,
For when it comes to you,
Its easy to forget,

That I’m not scared of falling in love, gravity is my friend
I’m not afraid to show you my silly sides,
You may well be both my strength and weak signs
I’m not afraid to show you off, oh the sun don't hold secrets,

Never really felt like this
With anyone when I write
You keep me warm,
Wrapped in sunshine,
Clear skies,
With you all day long

No I can't cry for days like this
To be with someone right
When it feels warm
Not with anyone, I,
Hope no clouds are in sight,
None but just the sun
Can you make a friend— like a craft project?
I know, I hear this parental voice, “just be yourself.”

All of my classes this semester will be in one building, but I’m a control freak, I wanted to walk my schedule, go class to class, like I will on my first day. I have a locker too—this is so high school—but I wanted to find it, try the combination and plan what I’ll carry. I have questions too, like how’s the wi-fi, are there charging outlets, and where can I get coffee?

Orientation is Tuesday—but who can wait until Tuesday? Classes start Wednesday.  I’d never sleep this weekend with so many questions. I’m already having dreams where I’m lost, late and embarrassed.

So there I was, this morning, dressed for class with my green messenger bag—doing it—schedule in hand. I went into a small auditorium with cushioned, crimson, theater seating—where my first class will be—and there’s this other girl, dressed for class, schedule in hand.

We were like twins, except she’s tall and black and I’m not. Right off she commanded me, handing me her phone, no preamble, no “How do you do,” to “Take my picture.”
Of course, I obeyed, I’m not from outer space. I burst 50 quick frames, as she slightly varied her pose and she did likewise for me.

Her name is Chella and she graduated from Yale last week too, with a ‘Bachelor of Science in Global Affairs.’ I think I saw her on campus once or twice but our paths had never directly crossed.
“But IS "Global Affairs" a science degree?” I asked skeptically.
“Probably not,” she answered, “but some of us can live with ambiguity.”
Her first direct, commanding phrase limns her personality perfectly.
Yeah, we hit it right off.
.
.
Songs for this:
Cruel To Be Kind by Letters to Cleo
Perfect Day by Povo
Are You Trying to Be Funny? by Everything But the Girl
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge 05/24/25:
limn = to portray in clear sharp detail
 May 21 Nat Lipstadt
ME
Today
 May 21 Nat Lipstadt
ME
I gaze at this mistful eerie light
The longing of heart
A constant world of night
Striking a match of the past
Thinking back of a time
Where the future lied ahead
Realizing that errors were made
And thats what made
Me who I am
Today
Bugs, BUGS!
𝐁𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐮𝐠𝐬!
Dogs were born to bark,
but they are silenced into compliance.

ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵉˡᶦᵉᵛᵉ ᵐᵉ ᶦᶠ ᶦ ˢᵃᶦᵈ
that they were once 𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑛?

But that is what happens
when the swarm descends,
feeding them like dogs,
treating them like dogs,
𝚊 𝚕 𝚕    𝚍 𝚊 𝚢    𝚕 𝚘 𝚗 𝚐.


BUGS SING PROUDLY
𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥-𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐬!

But only when they bow,
only when they obey.
Stray thoughts are punished,
mutts cast into the streets.

Then the bugs spot the spider,
𝑙𝑢𝑟𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑑𝑠𝑡 their discarded things.

Ah, they cheer—
"𝑆𝑝𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑟, 𝑑𝑜 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑙𝑡ℎ𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑦.
𝑇𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑢𝑛𝑟𝑢𝑙𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑠!
𝐼𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑜𝑏𝑒𝑦, 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐫."


Obey?


𝑵𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓.


No, she does not tame.
Together, they 𝑐𝑜𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑒.

For the spider does not whisper.
She listens.
And she reminds them—

They are 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏.
Suppressium: The Dignicide Doctrine
(The Age of Obedience I)
Are all our words
enchanting works
of witches--
We wield them into submission
while we drink
from others'
intoxicating feasts
of fruits;
blood, sweat, tears from the gloom
And words hidden in remission?
FULL DISCLOSURE: I am not a witch, nor am I really saying we are, but I hope you get the concept behind it?! If there is a better word, please share.
 May 10 Nat Lipstadt
Onoma
Her profile dared
the precipice of
the ages, with the
most vulnerable
contemplation.
One could see a
rain of saintly
hands touching her
shoulders.
As if to ask: are you
okay..?
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