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What’s another 20 minutes?
drops in a bucket or insult to injury

I don’t think I really care either way.
it’s not like I’ll miss it tonight

Just lay there wondering what could have happened.
what could have been

If I invent my own formats I’ll always do it the right way.
but then what’s the challenge

Escaping lust would make things just a little less fun.
less fun like typing just to see the words appear

But I guess if I’m here for another 20 minutes I must be the one who finds it fun.
who knows why

They do feel the same.
the 20 minutes, I mean

Same as the hours and years before.
don’t stay up expecting something new, it won’t happen

If I invent my own wisdom, I always feel smart.
”quoting myself still feels stupid, though”

The greatest thing ever written was probably scratched into beach sand.
right before the tide came back again

That’s what I mean about these 20 minutes.
living in fear of the tide rising before I’m finished

Mechanical clocks are just so much more gratifying to watch.
a feeling like I’m not the only thing left moving

If I invent my own talent, I’m a prodigy.
but it’ll probably be another one they don’t let in the talent show

If there are only 8 minutes left of the original 20, do I write faster?
or just be satisfied with how things turned out

They would have me believe.
more is better, faster, less moving parts, fewer mechanical clocks

If I invent my own judicial system, I’m always not guilty.
how about breaking laws creatively as a talent

Running in the snow naked just because snowflakes feel funny.
the snow has to fall for at least 20 minutes to touch something

Why are things only funny if people are around, what is that, laughter for the sake of laughter not humor?
only 3 minutes now

So which is it, increased speed or increased less shitty-ness?
I got another one

If I had made my own time zone, my 20 minutes wouldn’t be up.
in my own ocean the tide would never rise

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