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TAS or The Attention Syndrome [Poem]

Why the Attention has to be a the key,
That I could see and dwell in to reap,
The benefits.

Curtained under a well-it-swells:

We meditate and create...the certain uncertainties of the

Castle-blank.

And you roam around the area that created the swell.
And I wait...and I wait...and I wait...another waiting game.

The tiger in shell is breaking into bubbles...and me...

The art of the sofa is turning into the ellipsis I keep repeating,
And I kept repeating the content and I kept producing the content.

I couldn't ffffound anymore. It got expired.
I couldn't sixtyone anymore. It got transpired.

I fumbled into the mysterious-void
That never existed, I with my two-cents-of-the castle,
Vanished into thin air, like a thought never uttered, but dwelled.

Oh! The shitty poetry gets deeper as one gets old! Fuck that!



This post first appeared on Help Your Environment - How?, please read the originial post: here

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TAS or The Attention Syndrome [Poem]

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