Considering
something as ‘personal’
is an exercise in
dominion,
that makes
self-identity into a myopia.
It makes familiarity
into a sense of
sensory shackles,
that leads to a self-love
as an experience of
boundaried-ness,
which makes languaging
it all
seem like alarmed
fire ants,
guarding the queen
of intentions.
Internally, thought
is chalk
on the backboard of
the mind,
placed by an
absentee writer.
Understanding it
is the
absentmindedness in reading
and comprehending
it.
Personally,
we all live in a
village
of collapsing
concepts
dependent upon our
next breath
to develop, the letting go . . .
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