We are not alone, but that means something else
This is not our place, it is a time we are leasing from the universe
You are pretending to be something else, something that will not last
I have found this package of truth; the wrong sound emanates from within
I have to abandon the idea of verisimilitude…
I have to abandon love
because any recipient knows that they can do better
in a landscape of denial
I hear the dance of the forest; the way people rely on an economy of uncertainty
Going gorgeously into the fables of Narcissus and Sisyphus
Mental is not physical, and lyrical is not spiritual.
I cannot regret so much, having lived so little.
Who can help but save themselves when the explosion exposes the final year.
It is not sad.
It is forensic and philanthropic to witness the turning of our globe,
on which we strive to outlive destiny itself.