Being old
but not wise
has a bitter taste
but not artificial
knowing not,
but caring little
keeps you going
forward
for that is the greatest
talent in this
muddy world
Ideas neatly folded in six inch squares or lying on the grimy floor covered in beer mud and regret.. poetry that inspires a dull throbbing pain in the center of the forehead. circular reasoning and deep insight. My only contact with the outside world. a panopticon.
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