it was the formality of it all that killed him. the restraints of the underlying structure suffocated his voice, his very reason. he ushered his last line, “what more could I be.” this was his seed that fell beneath our feet as we blindly tread towards the tree of bureaucracy. a nourishing spirit once said that before you slumber, let your eyes wander to that undiscovered, and so I did. the unconventional dream fell unto me, and as I woke, I asked, “what more could I be.”

be well,
bcb