Some Thing Else

Elastic effervescent fluid
adjectival festive shapish 

A way out of the instruction manual
I can't stop writing verse by verse
and here we get there again,
I am sorry to you and me,
it's a compulsion,
to say: do this,
don't do that,
it feels such a way 
and therefore:

not enough pauses in the space bar,
shots of return won't wash away 
the eternal recipe book,
always another page in the offing,
from principles to guilt
and ideals to inaction,
not enough to overdone,
seasons are not a sufficient excuse
for the change I'd like to be both a part of
and fully outside,
the protagonist and unlikely villain,
a time criminal, taking second in the
race to how many hours,

and if it's not a repetition
we're at least back to how it be

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