hum

Writing to each other, we write to ourselves, and it’s always a sweet surprise, even when sitting on the sidewalk outside the library in a hell filled with tears.

Thinking man’s spunk

Picasso said “Cuando
llegue la inspiración
que me encuentre
trabajando.” I think
when inspiration comes
let it find
me walking slowly
or, better, still

The future’s in
the stars, long
past, so, clearly
all at once

Fame or integrity: which is more important?
Money or happiness: which is more valuable?
Success or failure: which is more destructive?

Read about posture
Listen to stage one

No thought’s worth
a second thought

“Are you still fasting?” the supervisor asked. “When are you finally going to stop?” “Forgive me everything,” whispered the hunger artist. Only the supervisor, who was pressing his ear up against the cage, understood him. “Certainly,” said the supervisor, tapping his forehead with his finger in order to indicate to the spectators the state the hunger artist was in, “we forgive you.”

Cried all day
today, flatmate must
think I’m strange

In an infinite amount of time, one day, I will reappear.