It is good an exercise to write about what
Did happen to you during the course of
One day; so let me begin with something
Like this; I don’t like to cut my hair; no
Not like that; I don’t like my hair being cut
By someone; can’t really say why; I just
Don’t; there is no pain about it or a
Tragedy in it, you know; I don’t impersonate
Them and imagine the after-battle field
Strewn with thin prolonged bodies; agony
And fear of despair in their postures; no
Nothing like that; nor do I fell any remorse
About being almost bald; I don’t really
Much care about my outer look; I just
Want not to look as a complete freak;
To look just fine, that is all what I ask for;
And I hold no grudge against my
Hairdresser; I changed three of them
So far; not because they were bad;
No; they are Professionals; it’s just
Happened like that; circumstances;
I don’t look at myself in the mirror
During this process; never analyzed it;
Saw no point; that is something inner
Prolly; Freudian stuff; this ******* is
Everywhere, you know; can’t say one
Word in the circle of the shrinks without
Being labeled with some unrighteous
Deviation (“as if there are righteous” my
Bruh sez in the furthest angle with a cup
Of cigarette ash); so I don’t look at myself;
Nor at my feet or my fallen hairs strewn
All around and on my feet; I look at the
Wall and through it to the very core of the
Earth; and there I see flame; but flame is
White; and it is not right