t.s. eliot your pen game too holy, your swag too ceaseless, your drip unfathomable, your mind too fire
- gerontion (9/10), new favourite, hate how searingly relevant these poems are. christ as no longer a gentle lamb but a tiger, a predator. there is no salvation when weak minds are rife. driven mad with desire.
- burbank with a baedeker (7.5/10) had to pull out the google for this one but once i did, fire
— 7 hours, 36 min ago
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