tenth day
in the twelfth month
named after the number ten
do we merry-go-round each other
until our paradoxes
and anachronisms
make sense
or is life simply accepting
that parts of life simply
never make simple
sense
tenth day
in the twelfth month
named after the number ten
do we merry-go-round each other
until our paradoxes
and anachronisms
make sense
or is life simply accepting
that parts of life simply
never make simple
sense
waking moments
still stuck in dreams
trying to keep track of
what is reality
and what might not be
and what makes sense to me
is that there is not any one solid answer
it’s all just chemical reactions and brain synapses
trying to make sense of a world that just
doesn’t