Is the real question
where does the world endand your imagination begin?or,where does your imagination endand the world begin?
Standing on the brink of oblivion
will you smile at the prospect of infinite gain?or cry out in despair for your eternal loss?Or will you be unable to tell the difference?
An inquisitive mind
must accept that they will always have more questions than answers
Would you go with me if I felt the need to fly away?
I know you understand the weight that the burden of your hometown’s past carries,and the ways of its omnipresence in our patch of the world.Would you pick up and go with me?I don’t want to leave to forget,I want to leave to see different things.Things nouveau to my eyes,Old things of the earth.Would you go […]
The desire to leave a mark,
some sort of lasting impression,drives the handto the pento the page.But what canthe frantic scribblesof a worn-downindividualactually doamidst theswirling fluxof the cosmos?We all want to be remembered, but is it worth the effort?
I know, it’s all been done before
Do I want to do it again?
at a loss of words
confused at the implicationsof my utteranceswhat is the value of this pageof these wordswhat do they mean?I don’t knowdo you?
Can I be so,
fuck,where are the words.What do I even want to say?I don’t knowthis is pointlessfuck it
