And this is where it starts,
an entry point somewhat
obstructed or dissembled.
I find in my darker moments
a craving for the quivering
goo of rationale.
This isn’t introspection.
I’m pointing this out for posterity
and because nothing points
towards resolution.
I’d prefer to be held
under a deeper sway,
but one a less obvious
shade of gray.
You’ve heard it before:
the revolution won’t be anesthetized.

-r. miller

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