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Draconian/Draconic - Portrait of a Young Man as The Artist — LiveJournal
I lap at it with a Draconian tongue - the purvayor of half-lies and denigrating truths. "You don't have to listen" I told it. It scoffs at the blatant caring I show. I, the piecemeal man.

It's disgust apparent, it seizes the runes - esoteric only to new born eyes - and gulps them down mightily. It's vigor reduced I devour myself.

There is glee somewhere to be heard,
it brims a silver chalice - guardian of the morning's production. I take him in and add him to myself frugally and carefully. It dissolves in effervescent light.

On the breeze, a cool wind brings the beginnings of the fortitude of draconic lore.

This will not perish as easily as the piecemeal man
in the maw of mediocrity.

Current Mood: excited excited
Current Music: Droning of A/C, and the assurance of a pleasant work day.

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