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Vascillations of mind and mood
From genius but dying to creative but in dire straits to trivial but living.

ill write like u type
talking 2 myself cuz noones around
theres a lot to say and so little time,
so we cut corners.
but im getting carried away and using big words i cant mistype.

There’s a time for forging ties
and a time for breaking them.
A time for remorse, for pride, for absolution, for crime.
There’s a time for you, a time for me.
But some things, they’re timeless.
Catch them if you can, on paper, on tape, on a fading mental imprint. But as soon as you manage to capture, the clock enters the picture and time starts deteriorating whatever’s precious.
It’s the irony of all ironies.

Here’s a stretch of road I haven’t traveled in a while
(how long’s it been?).
It’s good to revisit,
to see what’s changed and discover nothing has.
Twenty years later things have changed, but really they haven’t. The clock’s at work but some things are, thankfully, outside its reach. My mental imprint had deteriorated, but no so much that it can’t fill in the gaps of everything (I imagine) I find changed.

In a dilapidated house in the northwest, next to a large warehouse that manufactures housewares.

Let go.
Let God.

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