from a lost wilderness a slow-motion movie plays I see myself as a child the simplicity of running barefoot of the mud across my face my feet had never walked across the lifelessness of payment my hands had never run across the tribulus of metal and glass I was unknown yet to the world did I leave behind that simplicity thinking that significance would taste good the more they see me the less they see me the more of a projection I become whatever they need me to be so that they can love me whatever they need me to be so that they can hate me instead of themselves no more simplicity I have a column that has lured me away from that wilderness it has thrust me into the lifelessness and tribulus of the world the churches of my tears scream a eulogy a eulogy for the joy that once belonged to the people they do not miss it because they do not remember it instead they walked the pavement feeling as if something has been lost and the earth grows louder louder to try to reach them through that pavement and metal and glass like the voice of a mad man locked behind the depraved walls of an asylum it is the madman who was saying it is the madman who was saying

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