Deathbed notice, To get juice from every minute. Made into an obsession. Paying excruciating 😉 attention and to never be folded into the game of another. Juice out of every minute, no matter the minute . . . A minute at a heaving chest . . . juice. A minute at a stoplight . . …
What happens between your ears, boy, is more real than anything out here. “Habit yourself to the dazzle of the light,” said Whitman. Out here is the unreal. So many men have tussled with the reflections that it’s become nonsense. Out here the people gamed the system and made it upside-down like Alice in Wonderland. …
I fiddle with words as the craftsman across the street builds a nicer interior for the ego of another.He measures, saws and binds.I do something a little more retarded, prevented, a little more absurd.A tearing down while he builds up.And whose ego am I satisfying?
Creation is not only what the world wants;It’s what you want.You nurse a pathetic orchid just to see it bloom once more.You write words down, hoping they’ll sound good at a later time.And you revisit leaves of grass for the comfort that someone also thinks that way.And small water vapor will form into dew on …
And what could I take away to be a more simple character?Ideas from the past.Things from the garage.Images of used up meaning.Clothing that says unsure things.Clothing that says certain things.Apps – oh yes – delete the apps.And empty calories. How could something stored be something empty? And the powers that be now want the trash …
