i can't write what i need to write
in fear of repeating myself
history
they say
is a cycle repeating itself
over and over again
including my own
my
internal
peace
is
a
never
ending
quest
perhaps
more
dubious than
a pot of gold at the
end of a rainbow
this one however
is guarded by my inner daemons
and better yet
in this particular dream
"there is no place like home"
takes you to a whorehouse
in ankara
as a last resort
somebody screams
"i
am a
rat in
a cage
and
i
am
not
fond
of
spinning
cycles"
fall curtain
roll credits
the end
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