A conversation between my mind and I.
A mere set of thoughts; manifested.

It’s a journey. A concept. A paragraph. A flight. An actuality.
When I currently sit contently, high above the ubiquitous influence of status quo.
I hear the deep beats of a provocative 80s song, meandering through it’s rhythm.
I see placid faces; mimicking the notion of a time that is stopped. For a flicker. For an eternity.
So let it stop. Just for a feather brush, a flutter of a butterfly’s crested wing.

Notice the unnoticed. The widow, the wench, the white boy who sits in a position undreamed of.

It’s bizarre. It’s random and untoward; It’s completely fucking perplexing.
Alas, the only thing left… The harrowing; why?

Amongst all of it. Sorrow, shame, and self-indulgence; We’ll seek and we’ll search.

The only certainty.
As eternal seekers, we know not but why, but because it is.
And that is how it;

By Dan Bloch


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