Saturday, September 9, 2006


i'll do this thing if it kills me. people will recognize. and eventually, even i will recognize.

it's clear it's in my blood.
clear fluid in my veins.
it rushes cool, refreshing.
and leaves me joy like pain.

there is no difference anyway.
it's just that thing that we call life.
is this called work, is it it play?
do i use a spoon or knife?

people will recognize.


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