Connected to all centuries of nonsense.
Connected to my father.
Connected to his father.
Connected to the convective development of imagination.
See through the dread of salary.
A quick burst into no man's land.
Into the hanging place without noise.
Put here by physics to mull the devices of
curiosity
lust
insouciance.
You gotta find a way to spin the hours.
You gotta find a group you don't wanna puke on.
INTO NO MAN'S LAND:
Into the scrappy skyline of serotonin.
Well yeah happy, that's the easy part.
It doesn't change the flush of wind, though.
It ain't like…
It's not as if…
I'm not bored. I am bored. Not when
I'm surrounded by the bear, just when
I'm here, in the city.
People get so frustrated by traffic lights.
We're so soaked in to our tiny plights.
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