post from yahoo 360 (01-15-07) Assassination of Dylan Thomas I have plotted out this assassination for a few weeks now, carefully planning the tools, method and defending my decision. His smug face taunting me, challenging, I am almost ready to execute my plan to rid my mind of him. Lately, in tortured slumber, I hear his words savagely tease me. It's a violent game of cat and mouse, a game that has exhausted and confused me. Light breaks on secret lots, On tips of thought where thoughts smell in the rain; When logics dies, The secret of the soil grows through the eye, And blood jumps in the sun; Above the waste allotments the dawn halts. http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15380 It's him or me, and sharp as words can be, I will purge my mind of him. "My Hero Bares His Nerves", and I, like the scared shadow in a room of regret, stand humble to his ability to strive always with pen in hand. A coward, I cannot face my reflection in the grimy mi...
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