How vain humanity has become when the only belief we can indulge in are the beliefs of the impossible when they become possible. Is it not blasphemy when we don’t abide by our hearts? the snake in the grass that gave us the apple, the death of nobility for or sins. It’s already been paid for but we think gratuity is still necessary.the answer is in or errors and I’m or veins but we can’t believe in it’s simplicity because we are vain.
There is nothing in death except the reward and punishment. The punishment it’s being cast back into the pattern of mediocrity. The reward is to become part of the ratings from who watches the show. the idea of ultimate good and ultimate evil is nonsensical. this idea simply perpetuates the idea that rewards are only possible in opposition to punishments.
Humans are so base, we forget that we have been graced with life and choice. Show me a fucking bad one.
A cynic is fair, though only cynical towards, things they do not have. All poor are near mad, about the absent riches. The lonely are mad, about the love they can’t have. Those blessed with their health, and even the few godless, are sick of themselves.
These trails I once walked, I now laugh and dance across; understanding naught. The simple jester, returning to his kin’s court, through that guise of night.
Reap what has been wept, dance in the night as the light, and find your home kept.
I know you can hear, horses coming near, towing your carriage.
I find movies are funny when they pitch that It’s a Wonderful Life archetype. Prioritizing a lesson in appreciation of life’s trivialities before it’s too late. I appreciate the philanthropic sentiment of the gesture, and concur it’s forwarding, however, I, personally have yet to be convinced of the message’s proclaimed affect. A spoonful of sugar really helps the medicine go down.
In a war, intelligence is the only weapon all sides can attest to being the most critical weapon of offense and defense. I can’t help the way my mind processes. It’s prone to over analyze things until they become satirically stygian, and I’ve lost faith in humanity. This happens quite often, and the only way to slow it down is to drink. I know that’s a terrible solution, but I’m without health insurance for fancy pills or a therapist to tell me what I already know. Maybe love is the answer, but it’s too expensive for me, and possibly more venomous.
When my fingers aren’t firing like machine guns on this keyboard, I’m out smelling the roses and holding the door open for you. If you’re being a prick, I’ll tell you a joke with plenty of hoke. I’m Dr. Jekyll and I see the beauty in humanity, that it’s a wonderful life. But in the back of my mind, Mr. Hyde says I’m wasting my time, and waits until it’s time for him to write. I’m both these people. Yet I don’t know which one I really am; the blood and bones or the immortal words of the night.
What little intelligence I have, terrifies me to death in the morning.