wherever you are,
to realize
you've been wrong the whole
time.
You've been lying
and something is broken
and the corn fields
aren't just corn fields
anymore,
and you're just waiting
for a day with more
than one sunset
to set things straight,
because everything
is inverted.
Nothing is as it is.
Ever again.
While only one thing
one little sliver of light,
one glance from one body
has changed,
and yet it awoke you
into being again,
onto a new plane,
where nothing is the same.
But everything is exactly
as it
was.
Stationary,
like the scrolling scenery in cartoons,
the same loop over and over again,
it's the same,
but they're making you think
that it's
different.
On an aside:
I wish I understood Kafka better.
I had a dream in which you were playing guitar,
and despite my plethora of dreams
involving you, never before were you playing guitar,
and I long to hear you play in real life,
I'm sure you're just as a splendid as in my dreams.
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