Filling my brain
with raw words
like sushi
feeding
my Ego.
A foreign arm
laying on my shoulder
his limited brain
unable to understand
the beauty
of Bela Tarr
or the dialogues
of “Cries and Whispers”
or the walking bass
of “Giant Steps”
An uncomfortable
couch
and a hand touching
a pair of balls
caging them
just like a bird
a happy brain
with no questions
about ideals
or the meaning
of it all
Would you rather
question in sadness
or
stay happy
in your ignorance?
I know what I would rather be.
Do you?
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