The hall is sold out,

because we always remove --


superfluous chairs.

When AI is making babies, the best
we may imagine is
some sense of attraction and repulsion,

is there imbalance inherent in this scheme?
Say we wish we knew where wishing, the idea
forms from.
Were you taught to wish,
were you taught to pray, did they seem the same,
if, on the other end some thing
had to
had to, no question, had to happen for the answer
to be the
actual change of everything involved,

reality, every little thing matters, thus the rule
account for every idle word.
Because they are not empty, everything has been thought,

go Goethe "Think them all again." as it comes to you,

this is a-an ah musing idea, as a bubble of thought come
to being realized, in your mind. You understood that.

Nothing in the tree of knowledge is illegal if you know
the story has a moral, made from words you
wrestle with,
very trickster ladder-like Eschering blessed progress
a word to the wise
is enough.
That is a thought hermits use
to prevent repetition
of I don't know.
Enough.

First you slurp water,

and from inside, it slurps you:


isn't that called drowning?

You share with me your memories,
Of places I've never been,
Sharing experiences I've never had,
With people I'll never meet.

I am so grateful that you share them,
They put a pep in my step,
Make me tap my foot,
And make me turn inward,
To the man I wish to be.

Carry me away on gentle guitar pluckin,
And take me to your world,
To where I wouldn't have to be me,
To where I can be the man I wish to be.

"You're so sweet!" "What a cutie!"
Is that the best you can do?
Those are defaults and fillers
I don't want to hear that from you
I want you to point out the things
That the general public don't see
The sides to me that surprise you
Normally masked by timidity
You get to see my lion
But still recognize my lamb
Tell me I'm so much more
Than strangers might think I am
There is a fervid spirit in me
But it's cloaked in a subtle attire
While the entire world calls me simple and sweet,
I need you to call me
A wildfire.

What do I love most about life? Perhaps the ability to cook explains all.

So, after our pretty laid-back meetings filled with lame jokes and modest talk about dreams, I offered myself to cook.

"I hate it", he said the moment I told him how much I love to cook shrimp.

It was ironic to discover that each of us loves what others dislike, and vice versa — or maybe, I am the only one feeling that way.

But then, he inexplicably enjoyed the meal. So voraciously. That I thought he did that for the sake of impressing.

Days roll into weeks, weeks into months, and I was still serving the same thing he could barely enjoy. And he eventually got low-key to that.

I was thinking whether he did that for the sake of adapting. It reminded me a bit of how acceptance is much glorified these days. And I was so grateful.

I even wanted to serve my heart for him.

I would gladly do that.

**** me now!
Take it all away
Free me now!
Lead me through that way

Of no return
Of "known it all"
Of no U-turn
Where you don't give up

No one is around
It's all my choice
The subtle sound
Of my voice

Once chose to press on
Only for the pressure
To make an impression
That led to this depression

A "Tireless Impression" is nothing but pure nonsense, when you finally come to grips with what is mostly costly away from what makes up something that starts (as an impression), then abruptly transmits directly over towards the impression that gives good advice...that can't give good advice for itself.
The Tireless part, is the only remedy to an awakening that doesn't count for the (already built up nonsense) that can't keep it's own self away from such sudden shame... That it adopts a certain willpower that counts itself lucky enough...to literally become increasingly ill-tempered at the very lifestyle it chose, for the very direct impression... Of a Tireless will.