I carry a box of good intentions
all arranged on slides
in a little box
that plays on a projector in my head
Images flash by on the wall
taken on a day when all my good intentions were done
the sun placed high and warm
kids smiling as they see me
a hug from an admirer
that guy I argued with last year shaking my hand
an interview on live TV and everyone is listening to me
eternal happiness
world peace
I am thankful
Sometimes the images do not flash by on a wall
and I’m standing in an empty room
where nothing was ever loved
a seed without a seedling
nowhere to hide from desperate thoughts
if only the images would remain
flashing on the wall
I wonder what happens to good intentions when we die
maybe they are like pets
indifferent to our departure
before starting to eat parts of us
maybe it is like a goldfish in a little glass bowl
drifting round and around
every now and then remembering what it was
before forgetting again
never having had the chance to get to the end of the thought
drifting round and around






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