of emollient sorrow

Where You Live

Render to paste the place where you live
Before your time runs short—
And it does run short with each passing
Day. Apply that paste
Of emollient sorrow
To your face scoured by experience.
Human sickness never quells—
The condition remains—no one
Will come to succor
Before the timer runs

“Advice? I don’t have any advice. Stop aspiring and start writing. If you are writing, you’re a writer.”

— Alan Wilson Watts

About istsfor manity

i'm a truncated word-person looking for an assemblage of extracted teeth in a tent full of mosquitoes (and currently writing a novel without writing a novel word) and pulling nothing but the difficult out of the top hat while the bunny munches grass in the hallway. you might say: i’m thee asynchronous voice over in search of a film....
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