Do NOT read

This loathsome work of fiction is a dream of sorts...

Saturday, 13 June 2026

this's how it feels...

This's how it feels
When your life's running out 
As the tall, staunch objects scream and shout and scream and shout 
And tell the smell below their nostrils 
Things won't do
Things to be
Will only come 
Fighting, flying, flowing in
Eradicating all our sin
Is a rhythm
Humming
Beating out a path
I'll go first
And see you then
We're not ready
We're just hiding
However we can
Wherever we can 
Behind the masks
Behind the veils
We launch our ships
With their great, big sails
Then look so busy
As the sun goes down
We look so silly
As we prove our worth
Then we're lost from the Earth 
And we don't even know
The end of the line 
And the end of the show 
On we go, to the next sweet life
To meet our folks and our one, dear wife
And noone ever knows 
Where we've been 
Or where we've gone
And the rhythm's beat 
Goes on and on. 

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