No this post is not about you. This post is about me. How
fucked up this world is and the one I find myself
living in. Where breathing is the only commodity worth trading. Sleeping the
only escape from disaster and looking someone in the eye is nothing but a
glimpse. Your words are no music to my ears. Your thoughts bring no comfort to
my being and your advice nothing more than hickory-dicory-dock. I have thought
about it all. Discussed it all. Slept on it. Woke up to it. Ready to hurl because
of it. Take your socks of sympathy and hang them somewhere else, there is no
space for them here. This space is already full. Filled with madness,
discontent, bitterness. Should you find some longing here it will not be for
you. It will be for a life greater than this. A space worthy of living and a
time ready to breathe. No imaginary heaven falling from the sky or fairies
picking up the dust. Something real and nothing dead. Where darkness is simply
something that follows the light of the day and people still write songs about
that month of May. Where dancing is a pleasure, not a necessity. Smiles still
light up the sky and thunder awakes that of your inner core. When beauty is not
something you behold, but feel. . .
