by atma anna christ

The child had a sense of fear

The weather was humid

food allergies and all

In this time and space my mind doesn’t exist 

It is an instrument of calculation we need to calculate 

It is an instrument of plot do we need paranoia?

It is the weather that makes my thinking not the other way

It is food that makes my feeling or not

But nothing yes nothing is true if you insist to include the time factor

Today we are saying goodbye to friends we will be with enemies…


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