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What is The Meaning of Life?

Updated on November 6, 2013


I breathe deep, inhaling and slowly filling my rust-crusted lungs with forgotten life
My capillaries dilate and wisdom circulates to my brain
The smoke of the night turns to dust by day
The overbearing trees shade and shadow me
The smell of the wind, crisp and old—full of knowledge and pain
Two things that go hand in hand, and give me complements
The i to your e
The believe to your lie
I sit beneath a whimpering willow and forty winks ensues;
Rip’s fate
The robotic mobocracy upsets my ears--I run away in fear
I may go deaf
Speech was taken off the racks last week
Silent, impersonal words are the new black
A riot materializes--lights, camera, actions
But the latter remains untouched
I's do not meet, they prefer their feet
A cacophony of singular letters travel forward and back--lost in time and space
Forget the end—it’s not done, or it never began
My heart races—don't worry we've got replacements
Where is my tree?
With it I weep
I want to sleep
Perchance this is a dream
I locate where my willow was fabricated and washed out
And lay down with it to rest
The cold steel chokes me and excites chills
Deliver me--Fragile, Do not open until
The end.


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