earth is a playground #1

If it was about learning to undo my every wrongdoing, I’d perfect things by first unmending you, thread by thread until each word is slurred and your face is spread as a canvas with every detail of your profile now contorted into circus imagery, we’ll live and die as freaks both you and I have no permanent place here, we’ll move from city to city as romantics lost in their own filthy poetry, verses narcissistically drawn with the vision of a torn past and people we’ve met and loved with all the energy of a quick, brilliant fuse, is it time for us now to recover from this melancholy and look to others as the same, those with numbers and pictures in their heads mingled with strong feelings for their cats and kids, I sent a pie full of rotten shrimps to my former self the way our neighbor that senile old woman who keeps a drawer full of postcards written for a man called Joseph, someone she loved in the future, someone she had never met and was waiting for everyday, but was no stranger, perhaps we too will always have the days behind and gone to distract us from the moment at hand, I view myself in the mirror and see how my body has aged, I feel the building creak in my joints and my days become more consumed by sleep, but there is a light inside of us that only grows and grows, until one day even after we’ve disappeared we’d be part of this spectacular light around the others, we’ll be everywhere and part of the decadent everything, we’ll be us, them, you and I, eternity itself.

+I'm in this week's issue of SELANGOR TIMES, out today! Get off your ass and go find a copy! There are only 100,000 in circulation,I naively hope that every single copy finds its way to an appreciative reader.

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