dreary weathered directionless comment

never write novels about novelists, nor poems about poetry. never think about thinking or ask about asking. self-reflection is the death of being, and all that is lost is always lost, except when it is found.

an alarm sounds. a compact disc burns. the book lied. you lied.

may i go to sleep?

no, not yet.

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One Response to “dreary weathered directionless comment”

  1. I agree to saying no to literary introspection, it retards expansion of thought. Wonderful literary implication here.

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