If not the narrative then what
the repetition and the rut
the inward meditative trance
the fumbling for the being dance
a sickness drops the hammer
hear my little scribblers yammer
lost the story of why for my trying
lost in his storyless dying
so tired and so unstoried
pining to be enriched and gloried
instead the miasmas hit me
you want me back damnit come
and get me
what
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