to not know who i am is an easy way

to escape the question of what is mine

but when i have to get a grip and grab

grass up with its roots and the dust

works away between my fingers will i

run out of things to call an answer?

we never run out of things to say

only the want to say it.

perhaps the want to say it is the thing that's said

the things mere paraphernalia to distract

from the terrifying nakedness of that want.

meme-flaneur, pilgrim of theorapy

the race begins at not-yet-dead and ends

at dead-soon and on the way you have

to gather as many lenses as necessary

to make a life where you can look at

the same stale thing over and over again

but differently enough so that when death

comes you are looking the other way.

~ ajay

22/6/2022