and witness the birth
of a million tambourines
all shaking like frenzied insects
through hallways of thoughts
corridors of boredom
and manholes of sickness
you walk
and see boundless apparitions
it's time to get born again
says the voice of ginsberg
and then the sky starts to fall
you accompany it with laughter
like you do to everything else
and then a madman whispers you a question
"is everything really inconsequential
because we're alive just so we can rot"
you forget it all the next minute and keep roaming on and on
it's true;
life is flashing at your eyes
like a dying star
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