a silent parade of uneventful days float by; and likewise, to a stranger perhaps, a fish spends his sojourn in unworldly glass.
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i am clinically dead. and although the date is undecided, a laugh resounds: nix on mirth.
over the hill, yonder, the grass is green, and flowers bloom out of boredom, really; there is no rainbow here. just me.
my funeral party is coming to a close.
a friend has told me twice, when he's left: love goes both ways; i go this way, you go somewhere else; this is a philosophy you begin to understand once taken with the proper grains of salt.
i am not a good person, nor a bad person, but many things in between those extremes: i am human.
life is what you make of it, as much as circumstance allows; but when you really get down to it, a depth that's stripped of all things superficial, we're all just existing among each other as well as we can: harmonics will come later, when musical notes are on every street corner, and we can all learn to appreciate them collectively.