Misery is not in the mood for poetry.
It does not wish to put on the pretense of pretty.
Nor the civility of wisdom.
Misery wants to spread its poison on to all living things for indeed it loves company.
It wants to insult you and berate you.
It wants to seek out your sacred places and desecrate them.
Misery loves that you succumb to despair.
That you relish and revel in it.
...
Wednesday, May 04, 2011
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