Henry David Thoreau
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Dear sweet and putrid Flower
I find myself riveted by your solitude.
And there is no better method for passing the day
In this jail-cell we call freedom
I don’t want to do life today
So I think I’ll just lie here
I’ll be a Neo-Nietzsche
Since life won’t do me either
What good is a body
That only sees despair
It’s not white or phallic
