Thursday, March 10, 2016

fuck you, brain!

why attempt caution
why try to fight the vast entropic flow
sluicing through ambitious dreams
& calm calculated streams,
with equal ease
whole broken- bringing pieces float by in
cruel eddies of memory
the wise man leaves not room for fate?
the wise man knows fate is beyond him,
life is short whether one year or a hundred?
death dances so freely, its movements mark my jealousy
seeking not an end but freedom, finding neither,
is it just another word for death?
could Mark be correct?

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