you can call me
flower if you want
to. i jumped in the
river

but there
was nothing

there.

There is no
narrative
of how you arrived
Here.
“It is all relative,
i guess”
she said.

“relative to nothingness”
I replied.

and death is
the
reward
a flash full
of
stars.

I don’t give a
hoot

about everyone’s

journey.

we’re not going

through

a journey

we are dying
slowly.
these people
are hope and
they live and
burn and then

“look at those poor leaves
hanging on” the mother said

“thats supposed to be very
inspiring” (but its not) we
said.

“A picture of the
fire does not
keep us warm”

(only a fire
actually
burns.)

if my
Mind is a
Container

the rest of
the world is fuzz.
don’t talk about
magic

all meaning
is conventional and
the Internet

is the end of

language.

normalcy is the real virus
a plague on our people
the manger is melting,
please do not feed
the animal.

the syndrome is
Civilization
the symptom

is repression.
and death
is the reward
for getting
through the
absurd

other than that

All we have
is accumulated
Culture
And the conversation
You are having.

Which is only true
because
you
are
having it.

everything
will work out
for you,

but if it
doesn’t, it’s
not like
it ever
does
any
way.

my mind

does not

concern

me.