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Saturday, April 30, 2011

The Delusion of Happiness

Fifteen years ago I melted
mini Lego faces with sunlight and a magnifier.

Ten years ago I traced the textures on my walls
with black pen, and found images of sex.
I slept beneath women taking
the deepest breaths through mouths like ghosts.

Five years ago I realized that the eye
is a portal through which we
believe madness.

Yesterday I realized the human mind is
a sparsely written program that generates
feelings and functions less efficiently
than a melody hummed into a paper cup.
So I re-wrote it.

Yet, I still find faces
where there are no faces.

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