the letter u (winkwildly) wrote,
the letter u
winkwildly

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rich inert life. subtitle: was she one of my three meaningful women?

When I read more than a couple of poems and I don't understand any of them, understand probably not being the best word to use, I feel like I'm afloat in a sea of the fantastic and the unattainable, which, now that I come to think of it, is a familiar feeling. Did I steal that? Water water everywhere and not a drop to drink. Rime of the Ancient Mariner. I understood that. Line. Right now I feel like I'm ten feet further away from the screen than I actually am, and I'm thinking this is a phase but you never know what's changing these days. I've given up keeping up and I think it's for the best, but I still can't shake this feeling that I shouldn't be writing this, though maybe that will change by the time I'm done.
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