In the Shadows of Other Clouds

“Well, I’d say seriousness is in order. But who asked me?”

It’s worth taking the time. To appreciate the space between the beats, catch some sun from under the ground while the grass still grows. To listen; the earthworms think. Habits, they’ll come. They’ll go. They’ll leave you with a sense of wonder at the way you once stood in front of their dying. You know, they say 99% of people die from getting run over by cars. To think, you have the chance of being one of the few to get run over by death itself, while your car sits on the lawn and smokes another cigarette in parody of good humor.

“Yes, man there sitting in the back, words do count as actions. Good question.”

Musing is its own medication, my only sickness. It is the virus and the host, the mask and the face between smiles. Some people are missing livers, and some are missing brains. I met a man who was willing to purchase my misery, for the price of a single hole in the middle of my head. So I tool the deal. You would have too, if you were me. Some people are missing change. But me, I don’t really miss you anymore.

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