not caring,
is caring on a different level.
like I don't really love myself,
but in a loving way.
like I wish I was more
than I thought myself to be,
but I am.
like there are times
I wish I was dead and gone,
but I'm back.
there are times
I fall through the cracks,
but exist as ground-under.
have flashes of success,
but thrive as a storm of the soul.
I am incapable of telling the whole truth,
only to discover
that truth was never organized for the telling.
telling is just a striptease of the mouth,
for minds that are ever the voyeurs.
experience is a lot like that.
and so I constantly ask it,
what else have you done for me lately?
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