a narrow-minded luddite who preferred pens and parchment
could never imagine the amount of destruction a poet could hold in his hands.
the power of words strong enough to efface a name or memory from one's soul.
to efface the words on the parchment and ingrain them into subconsciousness,
as subconsciously, the poet's words will become your words too.
and then there will be no separation from material fiction
and the facts your mind produces to convince you that everything
is alright.
everything is perfectly, normal.
and convenient recollection will allow you to recollect the words
that flow so effortlessly. the power of the words seeping in
like dark tendrils of ink, coiling around and around and embracing you,
submerging you.
and you will embrace it too.
like they say, knowledge is power.
you have no idea.
