'cause' is made up of the excuses
for the admittance of time.
and that the completion of deeds
is in a form of camouflaged street mime.
most thoughts are only composed
of out-breath remains.
as for what possesses oneself,
it can’t be stolen in any way.
expectations have become
a bad yoga of the mind.
while the use of condiments
is like the animated expressions made
with the use of hand gestures.
living, like we do, is so unnatural
by being in time.
hope is a virtue of blood loss
unaccounted for.
opinions are like bat-cave departures
in search of insects of truth.
the taller the trees,
the more baritone the roots.
for the abstract in the mind
may some day express itself
as a catchy tune.
acknowledgment is its own form of enterprise.
bygones grow on fruits trees in seasonal ways.
ellipses have a natural beauty that self-justifies.
the nature of all incidents
only happen to lonely people.
a thousand consecutive lies in the sky
make for the river of truth to pass close by.
and have you noticed,
that all passers-by seem to have this peculiar gait
that, to me, expresses the weight of their secrets?
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