1309
2.viii.23
4.215
would anyone notice if
I stopped?
say no next breath, next beat
lines peter out
some smoke or bones
a stain can’t be read
the image is lost
in the future, no one knows me
I will make no difference then
storm or calm, the ship sails on
aye aye a very private illusion
comprised all of was
the past being that pile you won’t get over
(accumulation phase)
the past now passed
I build for a future already forgotten
this is the way of the grumpy
old bastard
a bop till drop
they could say ‘well, he was of his time’
in fact they won’t say a thing
and should the world stop spinning
blame no one
don’t blame me
ye know not the hour
as for this chaos I have signed
one is given a name to grow into and gone
that’s just as good as it gets
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