To the Almonds by my Bedside, the Only Ears for Miles; Roasted and Salted; Net Wt. 5 oz.

I somehow convinced myself that I could survive off music and essences, alone
Purely
And surely, was I ever wrong!
Food and water are essential to my appearance
Not mere forms and properties
And the Now can hardly sustain itself
Without the presence of something –
Nothingness, besides –
Love will reveal itself once my body heals from my own devices and delusions
Continuance forever more necessitates it

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