One True Thing
in the ocean of noise

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not the passenger
and somewhere alfie smiles
I used to have a hamster tree
and the man with the golden gun
lily is dancing on the table
the room of the banished poet
but you're not here
I want to paint it black
if you can come to california
till human voices wake us
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December 2002
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It was easy, I was calm and distant. I could see my life like I'd never done, and I was amazed at the speed with which I realized that most of it was shit.

I keep giving up today in favor of tomorrow. I keep thinking yesterday is all there was to do.

There is only the moment. There is not another. There is only this day.

There is love, but it is not identity.

There is dream and hope and trial and error.

There is only a single person. And that person is me.

The truth is that all of the honest things I've said are still subjective. The truth is that the truth keeps getting me in trouble because everyone else wants pretty lies. The truth is that it all comes down to who pretends to be the prettiest and the most powerful and the top of the food chain.

That's all it is. Pretense. As human beings, we are all of these things and none of them. We have created the rat race mindset who am I games to give our poor brains something to do.

None of this is real.


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