Looking out across the way and into the grate unknown. One might find them selvs asking, why? Or when? But the real question is how? How will I take on this grate endevor? How will it be started completed continued and kept. Still these questions haunt my mind. Tauntung me back to old memories and habits. Pushing me forth in times of horror, and paine. But still life presses on. Leaving the slow behind, and the helpfull with them. The fools waonder like snakes upon the sands of the desert. And the wise walk like they have a menning in life. But for all their folly actions and wise words they are with out wisdome. With out cause and with out pourpose. Like a pourpsly flawed mathmatical equashion it has no reasion aside form the seperaction of GPA’s and to humileate the ones who try to work it out to the best of their abiliatys. And like the spelling of this page. Thought flawed in its own right and jacked up as it is there is still a dimond somewhere deep in its core. Hidden deep in the words, ink, paper, and bits there is something not human made. Something not capturable to the naked eye or the enhanced one. Still the mind reads and see the facts keeping a constant over watch of all actions. The breathing and seeing of letters and their orginaction. For all my rambelings and polys, for all my thoughts and intreges. For all I have to offer and all I have to hold dear. They are nothing. Nothing I can keep. Nothing I can hold more. And still I try to cling to them and see them. Hear them and fight for them .but all is for nothing in a world where the matieral has no real life. Where the body fails and the mind quits. The spiret leave and sees a new age. Alis leaving my hart to ake for an unknown thing. Something hidden deep in my bowls cryes out for forfilling. And still I remain unchanged undaunted and tempted. To vear even a little bit. As to show the world something they have yet to see. But what? I have no idea. I have little hope as to seeing what my firends see. What ym family sees. Or to what those on high see in me. Like a pauge my soule thirsts for something. A hidden power and might that I have eyt to fill. Instead I drown it. In what you ask. In anger, paine, fear, hate, lust, phisical joys, and nothing to fortifying. Still I get enuf to ceep going. Enuf to thrive for more. Like a man in the desert with all the water in the world at his comand, but still there is no hope for food. The rasses if any are few and vaery far imbetween. The game are week and malnurished. Still they run him out of energy and escape him. But he finds their carcuses days later fater the birds have picked the bones kleen. Still svarved for something he devoures the bones costing him mroe than he had to give. With the pools of water come the bungs that he gourges him self on but soon their poisens take hold and he has nothing to eat. Still he presses on with the ants stuck to his teeth, and the fly’s and his futcher meal.
 morti_cacciatore · Wed Sep 06, 2006 @ 04:46am · 1 Comments |
