Why would I
Choose to draw at a Time like this
A Time
One Time
Two Times and again
Why would I
It is not the hand
It is not the fingers
It is not the fingernails
Nor is it the pencil between bones, muscles, skin
Least of all is it the tip of the pencil
Ash grey stroke on white
Magic in tiny particles of coal
The portal from all lives to all life
So why would I
Choose to draw at a Time like this
Times and Times again
The need
The lust
The craving of nothing
In all that is something
Avoid the Time
The place
Regain
Regret
Enjoy
For a moment
Despair
Et digt jeg skrev for et par dage siden og som jeg i bund og grund er ret godt tilfreds med.
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