Morning of the First

words run out of time and we ran out of time and

facing the inevitability of the end we strolled through the grassy earthworked damspace



arm in armed fashion and without the intent the plans made disappeared and we followed nothing

the buddha can damn himself
krsna too
god,sj can leave me alone





at a time there was the pleasure of the vastness of nothing
replaced with the sometide of non-pleasure

and when i woke up without the sting of the mourning in my eyes i was happy and you were too

trumpets
trumpets
trumpets


call forth the misery of the fall of the empire