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Another day, another existential crisis
Stress releases cortisol which leaves the body lifeless
Working on my posture, getting twisted in fine print
Spending moments for money doesn't feed the idea of timeless
Baking in the sun, not having fun, I quit.
Not sure exactly when it was that my mind split
I refuse to die without expressing my gift
Or curse, to disperse words even when they hurt in bursts.  A surging splurge that can take away my energy.
Not sure if I'm my best friend or worst enemy
Coincidentally the mental fees are a mix between too heavy and really aint ****.
But it's been a long time since I believed in coincidence.  Time to change the skit - redirect focus from the cobweb tombs to flowers in full bloom.  I am one with the sun but currently resonate with the moon.  This distance is true, but I'll come back and love loudly again sometime soon.  Better make it now, why wear a head full of dread when a smile is more profound?  Better make it now.
*breathes
Writing is
the frozen music
of an ellipsis,
the silent song
of a lonesome poet
who sings in the dark
among howling winds
crossing swords
in the white shades
of unseen things -
a winter on the Pole
on whose  obverse side
there's Rio,
and dancing
and mirth
and the sun's critique
of hegemony.

© Lazhar Bouazzi, May 31, 2016
your eyes
are my favorite
galaxy
six word poem #1
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