Passé train

.

I’m listening to music.
It’s a distant music played
in the town center
under the spell of the city hall,
and It’s ruining!!!! the possibility
of another music from
within. So, now I’m not
singing. Strangely enough,
not singing.
I’m just wandering through
the fields of being alive
on the wooden legs of
language. So, now I’m not
living.
Let’s say I’m just walking
through the fields of language
on the bone/flesh legs of being
U-hu
So I feel not really enough of a being
U-hu
Bees, bees, brain honeymoon late
And the awakening in the dark
As the eternal is such a
passé
train.

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