Most of you here reading this, dream of moving
of traveling of being somewhere else soothing
There is an illusion of relief
an oasis effect
an escape even if brief
almost an opiate
Your routine is your title, your clothes, it becomes your skin
your shackles, your prison, your island
You need a halloween, a valium, a reinvention guru on the podium
those daily tasks and chats and weekly out on a limb purchases
equate to mold and dust
If I could list our incidents of troll like fuss of lack
it would be a deathbed made upon a laiden camel´s back
Humour is those quirky attempts at the unpredictable
straying out of the fossil self, squeezing the addrenaline glands
forraging for stimuli
From the sperm to the egg
from the hospital gurney to the dirt bed
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