The Act of Knowing

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June 4, 2014 by Wayne.

Background: Going to start writing shitty poetry again, so I thought I’d start with a straightforward one – the kind of shit you write in high school where there’s no deeper meaning or any thematic exploration or maturity of thought or whatever the fuck, you just write it out as a poem because it’s slightly more acceptable than writing a long ass essay on how your heart’s shattered boo hoo etc

I heard it from a friend of a friend, who –
doesn’t matter, really. Just –
fucking hell.

So, sure, I know I need to forget you, it’s just I don’t know if I can, yknow? Or, rather, not sure if I want to.
It’s like when you stand at the edge of an unimaginable height
And you see the tops of the trees and cars scuttling slowly around
Like, you know you should back away but you feel your body swaying back and forth in the rhythm
the thingamajig, l’appel du vide, was it?
Back and forth, and you can’t fucking help it, can you
So that’s that. It’s not enough to know what I should do.

Hey, dyou wanna grab lunch sometime at that – at that Japanese place?

It’s just –

Doesn’t matter who I heard it from, but it kind of does matter, it kind of does matter who heard it and who knows and how little I matter, don’t you think? Okay, alright, fuck it then. Fuck it.

You should just move on, man. Tick tick tick.

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