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the existential angst
she's a star, a masterpiece, a finding, is a film full of solo success, it's my distorted voice that says nothing, my slowness is maximized. I am beside the most ordinary, I am identical to millions, she is my abysmal silence, my lowest note, my post of each ever, is another level, it's my headache, my uncertainty and my self-restraint, it is my trip back to earth, is my parachute does not open, is a dream, is another blood, my heart is 5 pesos, my pupil who does not believe my failure is secret, my sorrow glorified, my leap into the perfect, my futile efforts, my bad reflection, it is my tv on mute, my uncertainty, my book yet I do not start, my couple of minutes later, my clock ahead, my stupid suspicion, is what we always start, is my perfect breakfast, my ego is consuming, it is my type Jarmush empty, absurd perhaps my grief is ringing moon dreams to repeat, is my attempt to be me again, my existential angst is me and I go to sleep and leave this post incomplete.
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