Self does not exist, I say,
but we kept on chatting to each other anyway
all the while the clouds shift and move
like giant lawn mowers of the sky
and God the great gardener of the sky
Soul does not exist, I say,
but we kept on destorying them anyway
all the while people are dominos
killed in random tragedies, by
bullets, by electricity
by everyday garden applicanes
Intellect, does not exist, I say,
but we kept on using logic and reason anyway
all the while it rains in one part of the world
it snows in another and a direct debt
is taken from someones bank account
Love, does not exist, I say,
but we kept on kissing anyway
all the while trains shuttle past gaints
silent trees, as if by magic cars zoom
past large puddles that spray passersby
Poetry, is shit, I say,
but i kept on writing anyway
all the while waiting on the coffin
and the tears and the final laughter
and of something which we couldn’t
quite understand being with us
always…which certainly exists
