Title
I could never think
I could never write
I could never have been
who I am now
If I hadn't given up
And now I feel
like I can find no more,
trying to enjoy the search
that can't be fruitful:
and how do you enjoy striving towards a goal you believe you'll never reach, towards a dream you're sure you won't attain? Its the doubt that keeps me going, and I feel as if it's great to remember these things I'm sure I have realized but have now forgotten. Forget so as to remember again did it to me, and now remembering has become a task: but I must enjoy the task even if I can't be positive about the outcome or my life is helpless.
The clear sky
clear as sky,
clear as water,
water, the lights
and arise people
for weekend stress.
Even if it may seem hard
I must get it done
or the shit hits the fan
between Scylla and Charibdis
Sleep, I must, for none but
the have to occupies my thought,
want is gone, need overcomes,
and the have to want is not
an issue, eternity is mine
in the indifference that
attracts and turns away:
companionship I have
love I do not
alone is alone
or peace disappears.

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