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Pluto in Libra in the 12th House.

Lock me in a box
and bury
me to see if it serves
to muffle

all I’ve expressed,
the messages I’ve sent:
communications transmitted

and all of it at the behest
of my relentless, inner call,
this oh-so, desperate cry

for honesty
out of your deeply-rooted, hellfire passion
for the truth
and this burning need stoked perpetually,

all to embody integrity.
Maybe I’m hopelessly insane,
or maybe I’m projecting

an old future
from a dead world
onto the new,
heart still beating

as it dances
on the lips of its grave,

as it just giggles,
mistaking the soft
and subtle prompting
for tickling.

Let me make a dent
so that I need not call him up:

my demon,
my shadow,
the other

who makes me whole,
in some way,
and comes to reconcile,
seeing

the forest and trees
and yet has no resistance,
is given no good reason

to risk the life
of this individual for …

Release me. Let me before
the whole thing explodes.

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