I wake up in the morning not expecting.

I sleep at night not expecting.

Yet the universe knows me best,

and wants me to have a great rest.


A fractal flower on a broken embankment,

yellow and white leaves fallen to the wind,

a cantankerous journey back into the abstract,

it all shapes and forms in this space outback,

no light nor sound,

sight nor feeling,

love nor hate,

an endless machine churning out a great hallucination.


I was a child until I was adult,

a blind man until I saw the light,

hated and feared until everybody endeared,

hurtled from that comfort,

and growing inside out,

waiting patiently for my destiny.

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