Life is an endless maze wherein we are the mice and there is no cheese at the end.
By declaring it
impossible to write
poetry. It isn’t.
All that is, is but a dream.
Symmetry is a lie.
Near the end,
it’s just a thought,
just a few moments.
Moving on is
not forgetting.
You can’t judge a life by notation.
The simplest anecdote—
lasts a lifetime in the mind.
“There’s too much,
and so little feels important.
What do you do?”
An ice-cream scoop taken
right from my heart
atop your sundae of
dreaded individuality.
“Happiness isn’t a goal,
just a byproduct”
Of what, exactly?
“If we can’t have everything,
true perfection is nothingness.”
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