covert
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Trying to find way in this mystical cityFind something to eatThirsty
Without a trace I was goneMaybe a Cold Case file will be opened by a disillusioned detective
Nothing was ever real beforeThe memories and the real thing are equalThe old experiences might not have occurredThere is no evidence.
How does all wisdom ignite something real and not just endless repeated rehashing of less and less substance?
There is no one to ask, maybe never the case, only a dream
Who is truly interested in what is beyond the practical that never will endNot governed by rigidity and rigor mortis of a frozen mindNot being scared losing everythingTo fall into the periphery
Taking a bus to a place outsideHaving crackers and lemon curd, bottle of cold pressed Vietnamese coffee
Place is really worn down but serves its purposeTo severe ties, to inject memory loss and erase identity from what has been
Chopping wood boiling rice and thinking about the trees swaying down there by the ocean
The butterflies and dragonflies and small creatures moving about
Candles I have lit as there is no electricity
Devoid of the external, relocated from the words that never meant anything more than politeness and never pure insight
There is nothing more hidden at this dead end
Ground is too hard to dig through for me as energy is going dangerously low out here
A new phase is enteredBut no one will hear about itAs I have always been covert from the day I was bornAnd always will be
So call of the dogsCall of the search party and GPS trackers
It is pointless to orient in this vast ever changing maze
Somewhere I will be sending hidden weak signalsbouncing back from the stratosphere…