Lonely travels down the forlorn path.
Antecedents reminding us of how we could have done it better.
For the only way out is up and the only way up is through the fire. Redwood trees and granite lead the way though it hardly seems real, (the heart). Watching and confiding, hiding, misguiding the innocents; listening to the maddening sound of their voices, singing through the air, shrill and hollow. If you listen closely, you take note that they sing a …
Dancing naked - knee deep in my blood.
Ruthless killers couldn’t do better this, though that is of little comfort to me now.
Psychopathy is simply a matter of want. Human devours human.
Biting helplessly at the heels of contentment, resentment . . ,
all things lovely that are denied to me. Energy made manifest.
As though matter itself has betrayed;
*The Universal Law*
Probably nothing of consequence; (I tell myself in vain -
I am doomed, and I know this)…
Generations lamentations, devastations, indications,
Decks of cards strewn out of order;
Chaotic scrimmages fighting against an invisible enemy, steadily marching forward, never looking back.
Steady streams of malcontent effortlessly winding down the forlorn path. Thieves and un-doers writhe under the pressure of time;
•their withering bloody corpses -
victims of linear thinkings•
Yesterday, today, tomorrow.
Existence as we know it ceases without warning, followed by unseen evolutions,
orbiting and patiently waiting
Doomed to repeat our past...