An hour returns to dramaville
With or without musical instruments.
The prophecy is in: the next big thing is already here
But it won’t last long.
Exhilaration of the text
Could last longer
As long as the generations involved
Don’t stall at rigor mortis.
The past awaits you
Just over there where the future ends.
Time is the secret
But its answer to your inquiries
Is always silence
Until its too late.
A breathing death must be the worst kind.
Death by fire could be even worse, however.
Everybody imitates everybody else
In most things.
Pain is not a final destination
But its cessation may be only one of several.
Written while watching This Must Be The Place by Paolo Sorrentino