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Of course.
It always happens
Has to happen
It's never over
******* cowboys,
stinting in armchairs;
         where('s) the horse?!
The night is warm with reasons
Beyond this time and season
My tears stream profusely down my reddened cheeks
And even though many words spin through my mind, I can't seem to speak
Because reasons don't seem to make much sense
And honestly, I'm feeling rather dense
I had all these dreams once, you see
But now I have no idea who I am and who I want to be
I've changed so much
Circumstances changed me
Changed my once loving, carefree and joyful heart
Into a miser
Maybe now I'm much wiser
But I'm not kinder
I'm hardened and bruised
Seeking and failing to find beauty
And I'm not sure
If searching for reasons to dream
Will be useless
Should I pursue a better way?
Or lay my dreams down in a grave?
existentialism dupes those who "think":
that there's a narrative...
        there is no underlying narrative
when expessing an autocratic pin-point
based upon a "thought" that
                              summates in being...
a point of fact that's at
the same time trans-temporal and
   trans-spatial...
                            there was never
a lost meaning of existence:
              out of which every other fact
     arose...
                    on top of a per se...
             there has just been a lost narrative:
or what's expected to encompass
a realisation of plagiarism...
to use an example:
   there's already a "gender"-neutrality
of pronouns in the "form"
   (spelling) of the denotive: it;
   denote: denotive....
     de-no-ta-tiv(e):
                I'VE LEARNED THAT
IN ORDER TO WRITE,
IN CONCORD, IS TO ESTABLISH
    THAT THERE IS NO UPPER-CASE
   8Bb... i.e. there's no nuance
resting upon a p,
                no small letter equivalent
of the big letter to
obstruct making arithmetic.
                      de-no-ta-tiv(e)?
yes: being able to point a finger,
and that doesn't imply being rude...
  the hungry man has but to become
animate with merely a thought
concerning food.
i rather wake
with eyes stiched up
    (eye-lash tangle)
than wake
with eyes darting;

but the solemn
promise is?

                      neither;

i never managed to
realise how
the media compares
the pixel paper
to toilet paper...
  
everything being "fake"...
finally people are
allowed to speak:
but it's the wrong type of
people speaking...

   who needs a dictator,
when a people can become
dictatorial?
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