Notes of practice
As the waves rolls the cicada calls
The sea breeze caress with ease
but for me... My thoughts go faster than my toes
So what’s the point? If I go...
in fantasies that became anxieties
I get lost in lust
hunger then anger
and nothing anchors me anymore
there isn’t a point so must move on
Till the waves rolls the calls of the cicadas
my heart soft and the breath stops
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