a cycle a season a ripple of thought
like brief patterns on black sand
i have seen enough i have seen too much
i do not know how to be a professional
or a person or a body or a temple
too many days feel like time loop movies
something eerie is wrong with the air
some truths make living feel like a bad trip
but i am alive & i am getting older
which means nothing except the days
are getting shorter & the secrets darker
world come read my half eaten dreams
like reality they are garish & incomplete
i have no finished drafts or selves
but something i am going to make
of my life my breath these dusty words
something i cannot sell you
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