Do not be confused.

The subtle neglect of breathing can briefly remind you that there is something finite to deliver.

If the temptation becomes too strong, allow yourself a moment of despair.

Your slavery is in the effortless act of existing,

And to toil is to live.


Do not be confused.

Around the corner you will forget and your pulse will continue.

Your vision will absorb light and the beauty of the setting sun will give rise to something close to peace.

Not peace exactly, but close.


I can feel a piece. A piece of my brain dislodging and traveling upwards towards the moon.

It finds a home there, in the sky.

Disarming itself in the infinite space of its inadequacy.

There is nothing to be up there, in the sky.

Next to the stars, glorious in their passion.


Where I am I am often not.

I try not to be confused and I fail often.

Yet the truth is that words are like water.

My body consists primarily of the strange substance yet I require more every day.

The more I take in the more I release.

And wisdom is in the knowing and I am still knowing.

Knowing that there is something else to do with words and this body finds all the ways to release them.

To be here but not there.

To listen and not be heard.

To dissect itself with its own mind and yet constantly forget the vibration of life outside of life.

Where paradox exists and happiness is no longer a relative term.

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