Doseone, too, is a badass.

i come to you with one heart broken in two,
lashed hands, and many flaw, a man.
in return i ask only an ego that's unbiased listen,
to what i speak of, offers freedom from mind,
freedom from a focused impulse, free.
and not at all the spangled, yankee-doodle,
union, musket, and compass sense of liberty
which our forefathers in holy-wood have fed and sold us for scores.
i’m eluding, and rightfully so, to salvage clear-headedness
of composed fated state of human being no grand inquisitor myself.
i pour forth a pensive, frown upon and frustrated, humble, however furious.
this reason for being here, this well you’ve found is phenomenal alone.
in the immortal words of oliver wendell holmes,
"a mind that is stretched to a new idea never returns to its original dimension."
simplistically, topsoil is no seashell full of bitter ocean body, but it can be.
changing for and from, triumph to mystery, every somehow has a place,
where you dare not set foot and can’t see a thing.
so weave those silver threads into soul-leveled bonds,
and be unbounded no longer,
manipulative, let it go. go, let the wandering take it all in.
generate, make you yours, my masters, my pupils, my equals,
drop, decorate, i implore you, just think.