You disown two immense attachments
out of your mouth in disgust

as I smoke some obvious clouds
in a suspicious public place.

You slap the air around you
for being fowl, fowler than you,

stop the breath, choke it
but not breathe in a fraction of
what’s harmful to you.

That counts in everything.

Do you realise, this goodness suddenly
getting uglier on your face?

The Sun will burn itself one day
and the earth will kill itself

I am when it has,

beyond the good and its bad,
bad and its good, relaxed.

You keep on showing how it will.


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