Muffled.
The world cannot get in.
I can’t get out.
A purchased illness to assuage another.
Recycled thoughts,
boring in their dirtiness.
I devise a fool’s plan
to use this tedium.
A grand flourish.
Since I have no sword,
I’ll untie the Gordian Knot.
Please do and soon. That knot has got to be unraveled, and you may be just the man to do it.
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