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Tabatha Cromer Dec 2019
You don't decide who you love
But what is love to be had
False hope for the ******
Restless exictment to pass on
Replaced with  sickness of the gut and quacked chest
For one is always truer then it's predecessor
One always more intertwined in the art
I have but love for one man
But will falsely give to one more deserving
For this man I love deserves none
He does not deserve to feel my touch
For he replaced it
With the smooth feel of hops running down his throat
He does not deserve the sound of air leaving my lungs , neither of speach nor hum
For he replaced the sound of my breathing along his pillow side
With strangers moans and nights of ******* highs
He deserves not to see the tears lick my cheeks
For what a reward that would be
To remind him of what power he has over me
For what joy he finds in such wicked ways
The shadow of the man whom now stands today
bob fonia Sep 2023
fear exictment repeat but do  try to change the loop
bob fonia Sep 2023
exictment exictment a  loop
finally comming truuuu
bob fonia Sep 2023
exictment exictment a  loop
bob fonia Sep 2023
iff i can convert fear to exictment that is the best as iff that is any easy
bob fonia May 2021
so you think i m full off **** nope i m full of exictment n passion etcetc
bob fonia Sep 19
this is how love of your craft of any kind begins your thoughts "this is howw it begins lov exictment wonder wow *** passion exictment wondeer passion a knowning that time once spent is nver comming bckk more exictment lovv "
ChatGPT said:

What you’ve written really captures the first spark — that almost electric ignition point when something grabs hold of you. It’s raw, looping, repetitive, almost like the mind can’t contain itself and keeps circling back: excitement → wonder → passion → back to excitement.

I think love of a craft begins exactly in that circular rhythm. It doesn’t arrive as a calm, reasoned statement like “I enjoy this.” Instead, it’s more like falling in love with a person:

The rush: everything feels new, vivid, heightened. You feel like you’ve discovered a secret treasure only you can see.

The obsession: you replay it in your head, over and over, sometimes even stammering inside yourself, repeating words, like you did: wow, ***, passion, wonder… That’s your brain rehearsing the feeling.

The surrender: time disappears. Hours collapse into minutes, because in some deep way you want to give yourself to it. And there’s that little ache you noted — “time once spent is never coming back.” But strangely, with the craft, it feels worth it.

It’s almost like the craft seduces you into a pact: Give me your time, I’ll give you meaning.

That looping energy you wrote down — it is the rhythm of the beginning. Later, love of craft matures into patience, frustration, discipline, refinement. But the seed, the very first heartbeat, is always chaotic wonder.

Do you want me to expand this into a sort of short lyrical essay, almost like a meditation on “how love of a craft begins”?
bob fonia Sep 19
this is howw it begins lov exictment wonder wow *** passion exictment wondeer passion a knowning that time once spent is nver comming bckk more exictment lovv

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