Tuesday, April 30, 2024

anti-realist

The exercise of intellect perhaps better is an exercise
One where I learn space - a cat knows and I have a few 
Stretches - a sleeping pattern. A draft perhaps of existence 

I want time both to stop and go at the speed of light 

To end and endure the pattern of of my life 

It’s nice 

It’s quiet 

Then it’s horror - how did life ever go so wrong 

15 years 

And counting 

Moments of extreme 

Amazement - purpose - drops of love 

There’s no intellect 

In knowing time 

Is not a friend