Lost Car, Found Keys
Epistemological hallucinations are the first sign of philosophical insanity
Of losing the Christ star while mixing the batter of brownies a bit too leprotic
But finding has always required losing, losing is all that is worthwhile
For when it is done all you can do is find yourself, your keys, your mind
This is not my recommended action
Grab at what must be more than air
Don’t make the mistake of thinking mistakes are mistakes
Of thinking ghosts are dead
Of thinking about what others are thinking
Because they aren’t
Vitamin utensils
I live in the minutes between minutes
Speak in the words between words
Maybe because I’m drunk
Maybe because I grew a beard
Because no good philosopher abstained from this
Because they were drunk too
Toilet water after a night of insight
Reads like reiki
Nostradamus reads like this
And knew all of his thoughts
Were getting in the way of his thinking
About the author:
John Maurer is a 23-year-old writer that writes fiction, poetry, and everything in-between, but his work always strives to portray that what is true is beautiful. He has been previously published in Claudius Speaks, The Bitchin’ Kitsch, Thought Catalog, and others.
