[ esta vez...con fuse! ]
Dear Self,
Where are you going? when? and with whom? Adventures cannot live themselves, you know. Tests without risks are mosquitoes bearing #2 pencils, and sensicallity is proverbially having no nothing to show.
Why do we do anything? Except for fun. What's right, what's culturally acceptable, what's culturally expectable...expectoratable!
Who knows the answers, knouns not the questions. Knaught eye. What will you say? and think with worried lips. What night this knight am Aye? Quixotic and standing under so many ideas, dias, dios. I am the night who nows no fare. Who docks his pairs in the wisp o' wills. Not at all like the last, mal bicho that I am. My face reflects none of that security, only the lionliness and vertistop of space unexplored. Where belonging is yet to be born, yet to be destroyed. Where I wasn't drawn and quartered before I was conceived and glued back together as an after-thought. Where the possibilities are possible, and you are what you it.
Standing among the cacti, arms akimbo, if you say, "In vino veritas, in veritas sophismata," I'll nod right along. And if you say, "codes are useless because no one understands each other anyway," I won't disagree. But I'll only scream back, from my cedar groan grove, "the world is round, so there you have it. if you can't make change, you can at least pay credit."
Sincerely,
Everyone
P.S. Give my kindest regards to your exams, and I do hope you will find it in your heart to forgive them. They know not what they doobeedoobeedoo. |
