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The bastards that destroy our lives are sometimes just ourselves.

Robyn Hitchcock


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🦋 Displacement

Uno no es de ninguna parte
mientras no tenga un muerto bajo la tierra

my perception of duration and of sequence of events
is growing weaker
dislocation
fading slowly into timelessness, displacement
sense memory of objects I displaced, dispersed
so,

I rubbed against the floors I walked on
and they do my thinking now

posted morning of Sunday, December 16th, 2012
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(un borredor)

posted morning of December 16th, 2012 by Jeremy

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