You call it being reclusive
I call it being insightful, being resentful towards monotony.
I can’t get it
how people wake up with first light,
brush their teeth,
cleanse their skin with fragrant soaps,
eat toasts and eggs,
tie their shoes
and frolic towards a myth.
Always with a shadow,
always with a false power to boast achievements…
there’s too little to do and too small to get to a destination.
They were better and I was bad,
they are the worst now and I am still bad.
Creations are in the empty spaces… living is in the moods of moored smokes,
the dazzling desolation is calling everybody…there’s another day to circus,
there’s another day to promise.
Now it’s time to get lost not to be found,
now it’s time to get high in this cold night,
now it’s time to be wild in our search for attainment.

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Painting: Troy Caperton.