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Writer’s Anonymous

A Satire of Myself

Hello, my name is Marv;

The other day I realized I had a problem: I've been getting high off of pure visceral poetry.

I've been looking for something that isn't there.

A scientist, tripping and mad from perpetual experiments on my own narcissism. I'm the subject, and the writer of the subtext; the mirror, reflection and everything in between.

I found myself chewing on pens, cracking their cases with my teeth and letting the ink soak into my tongue...

The possibility of each drop, another letter, to compose these infinite words. I grind my graphite down into fine powder, I come home and my roomie asks me what that shimmer is around my nose.

I call it; "nostalgic déjà vu" of a handful of powdered lead tingling, driving straight for the brain; to write inwards toward my core.

The surrealism of being a god, a vengeful deity; creating, tussling the hair of every imaginary friend, every fiend of a demon infringing on reality.

I've been looking for everything in the vast emptiness of nothingness.

I know this seems dark, seeing the things that aren't there.

The great creator, Holds its tool of correction; Smoldering ash burns across a snowy field.

Seeing the things that I haven't yet written, leaving the imagination in realities perimeters. Or maybe it's vice versa.

Crisp crystal-brilliant potential, burning and turning. Chemically contorting, biologically bewildering, sentience sustaining.

A thousand pages of pen to paper, filled notebooks and emptied pens.

I've been trying to forget what it means to be, I've been trying to write a story of love, a story of family, a story of all the things that aren't real.

A story, my story, composed by poems, you see these little moments, these insignificant threads unravelling from the source and tangling at the ends.

The brilliance of becoming.

You see my life is jumbled, and I've been tumbling down hills doubling over myself, finding myself in what I've lost. Losing myself because of what I've found.

A little piece of me, a happy illusion. A reflection of the outside world, within.

As above,

So below.

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