could we somehow avoid
turning
the feelings that serve as an umbilical cord between two
into
a wrinkled belly button?

yes, i'm a fraud
and
yes, i'm a crime.

but
what is the motive
and
who is the felon?

alienate yourself from the sources of transient happiness unless you wish to be a bleak soul. henceforth, aim for the real deal. dance madly on mountain tops and sharp edges. play tic-tac-toe on mine fields. since the hangover is unavoidable, let the process of inebriation be equal in intensity. drink the morning bitter cup with as much a delight and you have drunk the sweet cup the night before.
 sapience is boring. it's fruits are vapid. it wins no space on paper. it does not open a door to heaven. failing, if this is one's intent, is the most diverting path. one's best source of fun is his own misery.

it's such a wonderful li(f)e

copaci şi lumini penetrau carnea cerului
şi luna
luna nu mai era frumoasă
şi luna
luna nu mai era pinkfloydiană
şi luna
luna era o tumoare
şi luna-
înecam luna în fum

şi ian
ian curtis
dansa mai frumos decât oricine altcineva
şi eu-
mie-mi era prea ruşine să dansez
sub acea tumoare

şi troleibuzele
nu mai miroseau a casă
şi tichetele
tichetele nu mai erau norocoase

şi bagajul
bagajul era uşor
eu
eu eram cel greu

when everything's frozen

it's the cracks in the sidewalk you must step on resolutely
only they can keep you from falling