My Writings

One Too Many

Who will read? The world is ending. He. Who will remember? He. Work, unconcerned, undisturbed, by what if. The future knows, that you are looking, it will shift, and turn its back. Delicate plans, flowers in the desert, to be watered by your tears.

No, He said. Pretend not to hear, feign interest, dismiss lightly, but Truth remains. A sealed gate. Starved to death, besieging it. Cannot wait long enough, to see beyond, I only have a lifetime.

The world, built for the average, speaks. When there is nothing left, there is Nothing left. Nothing can be said about that. Do not waste your breath, go home. Not your world, but you are welcome here to stay. Even touch. But you will leave empty-handed.

In war, pursue bitter ends. If they are important. I understand. On the tip of the needle, how many demons?

One. One too many.


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