• Vol. 04
  • Chapter 08


“That is mine. Wait!
Let me look at all the old mines,
For a bit of eternity,
And die,
Afraid of jumps.
Always coveting the second best,
If only I could at least choose what to covet!

My lavish corpse is but a fading ornament
So why the need to escape this shallow transparency?

Kleptomaniacs read greedily, just a little too much,
Building walls inside old walls,
Making ourselves infertile to sow all but one seed,
That grows novelty.
Writing a book,
Is knocked off of the wish list,
For no new truth shall be found,
Just alchemy of what is already known.

One who does not read much,
Paints worlds no taste buds can ever grasp,
That shall plunder existence after a century
Not knowing what one owns,
Never knowing it is truly his or hers to keep...

So many realities my eyes shall never claim!

They must be Immortals
Or they are seriously good
At suppressing dreams…”
Screamed, the thief.