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I see myself in light and shadow.
I wipe away “always and never” like spilled water,
when the paradox bothers me.

I dissolved my soft boundaries,
in the name of unreal faith.
So many places, so many faces,
yet another beginning.
I keep rolling a big stone beside others.
The home I dreamt of now exists in my world.

I have found this time, this place
describing what cannot be translated:
a room for uncertainty,
farewells and returns.

I like to stand in the last row,
to see tired bodies.
I whisper good words,
to make the world a little better.
My sovereignty is a willingness
to be an echo,
the symbol, the myth,
or a meaningless element
in the chain of woven stories.

I love metaphors.
I find myself in a forest of ellipses,
that bring unbearable truths.

Tensions, contradictions,
awareness that everything that lights
brings unseen weight.

I am a part of stories,
to vanish into oblivion—
the done past.

The Earth still breathes with me,
or without me,
among blooming linden trees.
So, I want to stay,
to open my eyes,
and be with what remains.
To my Father
I hardly think about you
Except when the music plays
And I realize that no one else
In the whole wide world
Knows the lyrics
But us...
Once or twice a day is not that much, after all...
They always start
With a disembodied radio voice
Over a black screen
That fades up
To a blissful domestic breakfast scene

The voice is halfway through
A mundane story
Then another that hints
At how things
Might get gory

But at the moment
All is serene
This house is where love is
And has always been

It unfolds slow
Stopped clocks
Missing signals
Distant screeching brakes
Then unlikely explosions
As humanity shakes

What is it?
What is it?
What is it?
they cry
Along with the viewers
You and I

We the audience
Know the template
Yet the nervous expectation
Makes us contemplate
If it was me what would I do?
Succumb like a *******
Or survive through
The gloom?
It's the fuel and the juice
It's the ******* excuse
Some say it's the fathers ruin
It was born of the need
When water needed the ****
To filter out some of the poison
It's was the grease
That we oiled
To forge
The forge
never spoiled
Where our models
Of the future rolled out
Some say
We should cut it
To the smallest amount
But you'll always find me
On the end of a spout.
I fell into a dark abyss
I was blinded by the light
I'm now
at the point
where
I don't give a ****
so I'm getting drunk tonight
I was chatting to a bear the other day;
He says to me,
"My missus is an angel. Every morning she makes me a cup of tea and gives me a big kiss before I go to work."

I replied,
"That's all well and good, but my missus shags me rotten every night."

The bear looked to the floor and slowly shook his head in disbelief.
"Every night?"

"Yep, every night."

Turns out the poor ******* was on rumpy rations, with the goods only being dished up on birthdays and Christmas.
I showed him how to use Tinder, so hopefully he'll be getting his oats more regularly now.
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