To Confusion

There seems to be everything and nothing at stake, and that everything seems to be at hold with one word, with one glance. When everything else moves, you’re staying still, you’re relentless pounding at nothing, keeping track when there’s no need.

Like love like hate like anger like bliss like.

When you want, and you need, and what you want is not what you need and what you need is not what you want and what is need and want when you are not the one to give and take and everything is not in your hands and nothing is.

I have to.

That feeling when time’s creeping by, and there’s absolutely nothing you’re doing as it tick tock tick and after an hour and two and three and still, you cannot, and – I hate that.

Why? Why? Why? To be or not to be and that is the question always and forever.

Is it things I say or do not say that makes you wonder? Is it that I say things I say that makes it all the more strange, beautiful, wonderful, ugly, dirty, in every sense. Is it that I do not say what they you do not know and then there is no understanding, no comprehension and there is nothing upon everything.

Beginning and the End.

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