April 30, 2011
Hurry up and wait
No time for worrying
No breath for screaming
No tears for crying
Woulda, Coulda, Shoulda
Go back and nobody's there
Empty images and fragments
Dead as the flowers on a grave
Go forward and nothing exists
But an exuberant emptiness
Sweeping through the abyss

Now isn't important
Now isn't memorable
Now isn't notable
Now just isn't

I remember picking dandelions,
Puffed up in arrogance,
And tearing their world to pieces
Their naked stumps
Once so sure
Lack being and substance

What a shame and what a sham
That the hum of void
Overpowers the moan of existence

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