Ancient empty streets/ none but a hand waving free

dont look through your empty cup
for you might come across a drowning

do we really need to see still images to see
that humanity, once spinning the wheel and weave of evolution
is now naught but vicarious means, washed ashore forcefully putting seemingly infinite time to an end
to sell paper and burn trees {dont get me started about the b(r)ee(ze)]
yes, you can have your cake and eat it too
please on your way grab my shoes
call it humble, call it dumb
i just know that im weary off the foreplay we call auto pilot

do(N)t call it epiph[any]; come on disect the words with me, let’s solve this Tetris called life;
years of shutting up only to find my self and us speechless
me, in my own bubble, interconnected with the raw basics of life
you, somewhere in our concrete (jung)le — young, though astray
i know you wont go away
not from here on, your dust particles
will not but dance with my sorrow

i remember a distant recent disgustion (society called it discussion)
about empaths and gods
and you trying to fit me in between in the form of junk — nein but a body (w)hole
and now i can tell you but one thing
read in between those lines and the books in your han(e)d
for it’s not a god or evolution, it’s merely energy exchange between
society’s black and white
and it’s up to us to label it

and though it might hurt,
don’t try to fight it for if your god is dylan
youll find a dylan-sciple pun hatter with(in) you and with(out) me.

The seemingly endless ring, we call loop — dead end — short circuits, will die once you step down and let these legends [CSNY] speak for all of us


sometimes im as nameless as a nein so:

[carry on (fish) — (re)joice]