scratching my inscriptions on the dark dungeon walls


It’s Boring


Boring a hole,
ignoring the goal.
Imploring, the soul
cries out, “Why?
You’ve laid enough chicks,
you’ve played all your tricks.
All charades! Theatrics!
All gone by.
You dummy, you fool,
you’ve run out of fuel.
You come on like cool,
but you’re not.
And so why pretend.
The show’s at the end.
You know. Now transcend
on the spot!”

 

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