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"Circadian" In the garden I planted for you, somewhere in the unplundered Territory of Hypothalamus, I found a flower who’s name was You Wouldn’t Know the Truth “God Help Us” cried the lost Praying Mantis, “Hear this, the journey towards Light incurs a deep dive into Dark Matters bleak, there in the centre of betrayal and lies of unseen deeds, sorrow and hell fires that block all escape through the soggy tear-stained pillows overflowing into those other souls' dreams, damned and crying, lives falling like ashes from ripped and scattered dog-eared pages, books and books of unknown facts are found when you float with her down down down in that awful half-way place, a boat with Black Hooded Habit stands beside her on the never ending journey, like ghosts you are all alone, watching what she sees mute in the loud silence along the unwelcome River Styx, well outside the boundaries of her dreams - there you will find what needs to be considered factual and habitual continually beating its telepathic message out like a booming battalion of drums, day in and night out it drums and it incessantly bangs peace out, circadian, a seed like a key, bats chirping around it with their sharp teeth dripping canards, a bird wingless not an angel bleeds, tarred and feathered, torn it turns in a not so gentle bed in that old moulding House of Cards looking for the one heart that sees hers and turns the key; there inside you will see the only bloom that is worth her existence, the one truth that is worth a trollish damn, and there it burns the reality of bitterness, to spread a warm safe unsafe blanket over the roots, stories, like veins, hyphae spreading and reaching out and up to the only commodity that through Truth matters - LOVE tattooed across the mind and felt through the darkness like braille along satin skin and penetrating the naked breast, jigsaw words spoken in tongues strange and foreign - there, thoughts are finally undressed caressed and silver bullets kept for keeps with ripe kisses wet and deep "What a crazy world this is", you say "What an unlimited life", she says "struth, that flower, potent with the perfume of its blatant message - Love is found through Truth" In the garden I planted for you, somewhere in the unplundered Territory of Hypothalamus, I found a flower who’s name was You Wouldn’t Know the Truth (LadyLabyrinth / 2020) “And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.” “All grown-ups were once children... but only few of them remember it.” “It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important.” Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
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