I don't know who I am except:

Borrowed atoms

Bad timing

And love


I don't know where I am except this moment

With a smoke in my hand,

My hair in the wind

And this restlessness I carry with me everywhere I go


The way I see it you can choose to be

Trapped in the space between your words

And your heart and your feet

But you cannot fill it


Or you can become art

Saturated by expereinces and expectations

Allowing your breath to be taken away

(it was never yours at all)

Be content with being unfinised

You are art-life is art

You find in it what you want to see

(but is it really anything) 

This poem is about: 
Our world


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