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Thesis
Hey girl,
You have a pretty face.
I mean your face is beautiful. I mean you are beautiful.
I’m looking at you ‘cause it makes me happy,
You’ve no idea the joy it is to look at a pretty face,
It’s like a slice of heaven—
I mean that literally!
Listen—beauty’s a reflection of God, right?
God’s image defines beauty, that’s what it is.
When a thing allows us to see a bit of God,
We call it beautiful
And a pretty girl’s face—
Well, that’s God
In the purest form we’ve yet found;
The highest heights of the high arts of the high civilizations
Have nearly—
Almost—
Not-quite grasped
At the illusive perfection of a pretty girl.
There’s nothing better under the sun
Than to simply rest your eyes on one
And soak it in,
Uncover its secrets,
Explore its
peaks
and
valleys
and
vast panorama of shades.
And your face, it says so much!
That’s why I can’t stop looking.
First I was drawn by your eyes, they’re green and grey
And something else,
They defy description:
I could call them emeralds
or thunderclouds with garlands of lightning
or burning stars
or glinting soul-piercing steel;
It would all be in vain,
I can only call them—
Your eyes!
They stand stark against your moon-pale skin,
Soft and unblemished like heather or silk
And your hair flows down,
A waterfall of gold,
To your perfect shoulders
(I could sing for a century on the sublimity of the female shoulders!)
It shines like a halo behind the mosaic
And under the skin, I can see the accumulated lives of millennia,
Think how they lived and died for you!
And here you carry them:
In the starkly rigid lines of your face are the ancient tribes of the Great Lakes,
In the delicate, shapely slope of your nose is the conquering will of the North Sea,
I can see them all, what luck
That the swirling cauldron of history should cast together such disparate parts
And create a new unlooked-for beauty!
Can you see? Can you see?
Do you perceive your own beauty?
Girl, how can I not love you?
Antithesis
Where are you?
Where have you gone?
Why do we wait?
Is it all in my mind?
We’re both alone
But it need not be
We could be one,
Strike out
Be free
I fear for you
And I fear for myself
Am I doomed to longing?
Are you desperate like me?
Am I crazy? I can’t understand
Can’t break through the fog
There’s a clear solution
A happy ending
And a new future!
But it’s elusive, just out of reach
Always dodging, nearly grasped
But never quite
I hate
The love I have to give
It’s there, I feel it
But it’s masturbation
Without you
So mindless feverish falsity numbs me
But not forever
Just for a moment
At the end, it always crashes in pain
And I think if you
And what could have been
The glory of creation
The runaway train
The forest cabin
The peals of laughter
But it’s an illusion
Lies of panicking hormones
But it’s real
It could be
It’s right there
At my fingertips
But I can’t get at it
I missed my chance
Fuck
Fuck you
Fuck everything
World is a fuck
Infinite destruction
Born to die
Synthesis
I am so horny
fap fap fap fap fap fap fap
now I’m not horny
Bannerless used to be an incel, but then he rejected a drunk girl’s halfhearted advances, so now he’s volcel. Once, his junior high English teacher told him he had writing talent. Now he sporadically writes thirsty quasi-right-wing short fiction to express his belated teenage angst.