I would give my lungs to the fish so that they may rise out of the water and feel the wind.

I would give my lungs to the fish so that they may rise out of the water and feel the wind.

A.P. Sweet
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We learn that all life is scarce yet abundant. Profane yet sacred. Loving yet hateful. Enlightened yet obscured. Isolated yet collective. That life is somehow derived from love.

A.P. Sweet, dead, but dreaming
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i witness the birth of the moon and her servants walking the night sky pulling us into their wake

A.P. Sweet, The Abattoir of Silence
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The moon makes love to the ocean and in this holy conception it gives birth to a little tide.

A.P. Sweet, dead, but dreaming
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I would give my lungs to the fish so that they may rise out of the water and feel the wind.

A.P. Sweet, dead, but dreaming
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shall we dance into the perpetual torture of our union once more?

A.P. Sweet, The Abattoir of Silence
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I cry as the laughter inside me drowns and descends into the water with the ghosts of our union.

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My thoughts are with you all. Forever conscious of the vast, absurd universe and writing my eternal story I shall remain dead, but dreaming.

A.P. Sweet, dead, but dreaming
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Then, only then would she realize that the life that she created will extinguish with nothing to offer but the sorrow that she harvested in our souls and the holes that she dug in our hearts.

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A good student learns from his teacher. A great student learns to teach himself.

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at night i loved her at night i waited under the tarp at night i watched her looking up at the stars dreaming of a better time to watch me

A.P. Sweet, The Abattoir of Silence
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