If you’re a poet prowling in penumbral light,

Staggering through shadows alone and lost,

Praying for a spiritual Sherpa to

Take you to atmospheric heights,

Or at least pull you from chasmic depths

And save you from the crushing pressure

Of self-loathing and free floating anxiety,

You should get to know me.

If your addictions are afflictions

You can no longer bear an...

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