A notebook bulletin board
tacked on when randomly bored
applied thoughts in a scribblebook
open for the world to look who passes by
so fast to see like a needle in a haystack we
safely stash those innermost secrets thought to be
at least you see languishing up and into pristine
blossoms for you to pick and sniff and hope
they don't make you sick.
There Is No Such Thing
There is no such thing as the afterlife. This is the reason it remains such a mystery.
There is no such thing as non-existence. And now there is no such thing as history.