I need to buy pens To write Nonsense on this paper “Non” “Sense” My favorite kind of sense The one that doesn’t require Reason or doubt Doubt is blind belief Reason is a prison Writing nonsense to exist Right now Write now
Our feet touchAnd that familiar spark returnsThe one that occuredWhen our eyes met9 years agoIn that dark, circular roomWhere only we existedWhere pain became peripheralWhere a foundation emergedFrom nothing and no one
At 36 years oldI feel my body breakingBut I have hopeMy hope lies, or rather standsIn the fact that I don’t have the choice to give upAnd I am going to dieTherefore every painIs temporaryEvery sensation propels meDeeper into my workAnd my pursuit of emptiness
“Non” “Sense”
I need to buy pens
To write Nonsense on this paper
“Non” “Sense”
My favorite kind of sense
The one that doesn’t require
Reason or doubt
Doubt is blind belief
Reason is a prison
Writing nonsense to exist
Right now
Write now
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When Our Eyes Met
Our feet touchAnd that familiar spark returnsThe one that occuredWhen our eyes met9 years agoIn that dark, circular roomWhere only we existedWhere pain became peripheralWhere a foundation emergedFrom nothing and no one
36
At 36 years oldI feel my body breakingBut I have hopeMy hope lies, or rather standsIn the fact that I don’t have the choice to give upAnd I am going to dieTherefore every painIs temporaryEvery sensation propels meDeeper into my workAnd my pursuit of emptiness