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 Mar 2021 mickey finn
Celine Ngo
you were an oasis in a desert

i thought you were an oasis,
but you were a mirage.
and a mirage is all you will ever be.
THIS HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY DRAFTS SINCE JULY 2020 AND I NEVER PUBLISHED IT DSKLJFDLKS here you go :3
Who are you? nobody or somebody?
a specie called human or a
specie known by its name
if that is so,
you share your name with many,
who are you? nobody?
then why are you here?
a null is also defined then why can't you, says another
who are you? somebody?
if that is so,
care to mention that some, says another
everything has an existential reason, says one
then, why can't the existence alone  stand as a reason? says another
living aimless shouldn't be a reason, says one
then, why say "live without conditions"
and so goes the questionnaire with the society
at last found to be one!
is it somebody or nobody?
is yet to figure.
in world of ablutions sometimes we feel the void in us then the question raised in the mind are put into ink
Delicate lines,
You drew yourself in the corner.
Painted bars around your dreams.
Said no to in between,
Trapped yourself in the extreme.
You smudged the lines on boundaries,
You highlighted your flaws.
Nothing in this picture,
Is what you would have drawn.

It’s an art.
Hiding behind the lines.
 Aug 2019 mickey finn
Traveler
I know it to be true
The gods have chosen
Me to be blue
I know it to be real
The blessings of the gods
  Is the hell I feel...
I travel through time
What a lapse
Upon ones mind
But I’ll remember
In due time
The love that we shared
That is
If the gods would let me
One last time
Come up for air....
............
TT
The
art
of
living
is
realizing
there
is
no
destination
on
an
endless
path
8/30/19 True peace is imminent as soon as we stop striving to get “there” and be “that”. All is as it is meant to be “here” and “now”. <3
 Aug 2019 mickey finn
annh
Mea Culpa
 Aug 2019 mickey finn
annh
Confessor, I am reborn,
Vain with ash and frankincense;
Absolved of my inverted pleasures,
Reconciled to the morality of suffering.

Confessor, I am returned,
Predestined to gravely offend;
Nimbly contrite in my genuflection,
Gracefully weak-kneed in my resolve.

Confessor, I am reborn,
Although aged by my discretion;
Examined satisfactorily by my conscience,
Blessedly relieved through your encouragement.

Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.
‘A true confession: I believe in a soluble fish.’
- Charles Simic, The Unemployed Fortune-Teller: Essays and Memoirs

Written - somewhat cynically - in response to a situation with an immediate family member, who is seemingly unable to break out of a continual cycle of apology and recidivism. There is no doubt that her ‘sorries’ are meant at the time but within weeks, days, sometimes even hours, she’s at it again.
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