I simply can’t pass my remaining years this way.
It’s better to be in my library, mumbling in languages
I’ll never quite understand, English among them.
I’ve no more patience with the internet.
It drains me, lames me, tames me.
I knew more about the world
When I was seven:
Sunshine is love. So is wet mud.
And both are their own perfect heaven.
~
[ 2079 ]
Categories: The Art of Being
William Michaelian 