The Fatuousness of Passion

September 23, 2012

If the number was like absolute zero perhaps I wouldn’t have to remember it.

But the number’s there and rising

To remind me

Strong words are overrated

And inadequate

To proclaim the realness of it.

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Ingenuity’s got no chance.

For all I know I prove the world an everyman.

For even in the telling

I’m in the claws of irony.

It pulls a plastic smirk.

It casts an afternoon shadow in my room.

To be and not be both at once.


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