It's almost like we're only human and must ultimately rely on what is the absolute best of what it means to be human which is ultimately organic; doing existensial battle with the enemy evoked within us...
Doesn't matter the government; the courts of mass media; the bygone eras; the epic biography. We're just people. Flesh blood and bone. The ground is full of us.
Maybe the virus is an alien. It just showed up one day on a meteorite. At this point what does it matter what Trump should or shouldn't have done? Were we going to learn something useful by all the negative energy associated with the ever growing bonfire? Was Trump an unknown? Has he ever been?
Trump is irrelevant. The guiding light opinions of sundry gaseous media is irrelevant.
As I grow incrementally withdrawn from the person of me and the space I physically inhabit I have begun to recognize my shadow. It is very long. It is as sharp as a dagger. It is a kinetic time bomb in my soul. It is awaking from a waking dream. Something about salt and tallow and the taste of dust. Something about trust.
I want to disappear so that I as laughter might remain as dissembled tears of joy in color and tone and flexing vexing determination. An imprecisely defined cojoining of life and death plus breath in my nostrils. A new day coming. With balance. With significance. Blissfully uninformed. Resistant to viral deception in all it's naked forms. Unmasked and unmade. Void of doubt. All and all for me, and none of me but for free...
I miss our conversations sitting around the living room with Shiloh or in the middle of the night over breakfast at Peteâs Kitchen.
we're never far from Pete's Kitchen or that mysterious dog.
It's almost like we're only human and must ultimately rely on what is the absolute best of what it means to be human which is ultimately organic; doing existensial battle with the enemy evoked within us...
Doesn't matter the government; the courts of mass media; the bygone eras; the epic biography. We're just people. Flesh blood and bone. The ground is full of us.
Maybe the virus is an alien. It just showed up one day on a meteorite. At this point what does it matter what Trump should or shouldn't have done? Were we going to learn something useful by all the negative energy associated with the ever growing bonfire? Was Trump an unknown? Has he ever been?
Trump is irrelevant. The guiding light opinions of sundry gaseous media is irrelevant.
As I grow incrementally withdrawn from the person of me and the space I physically inhabit I have begun to recognize my shadow. It is very long. It is as sharp as a dagger. It is a kinetic time bomb in my soul. It is awaking from a waking dream. Something about salt and tallow and the taste of dust. Something about trust.
I want to disappear so that I as laughter might remain as dissembled tears of joy in color and tone and flexing vexing determination. An imprecisely defined cojoining of life and death plus breath in my nostrils. A new day coming. With balance. With significance. Blissfully uninformed. Resistant to viral deception in all it's naked forms. Unmasked and unmade. Void of doubt. All and all for me, and none of me but for free...
I miss our conversations sitting around the living room with Shiloh or in the middle of the night over breakfast at Peteâs Kitchen.
It's almost like we're only human and must ultimately rely on what is the absolute best of what it means to be human which is ultimately organic; doing existensial battle with the enemy evoked within us...
Doesn't matter the government; the courts of mass media; the bygone eras; the epic biography. We're just people. Flesh blood and bone. The ground is full of us.
Maybe the virus is an alien. It just showed up one day on a meteorite. At this point what does it matter what Trump should or shouldn't have done? Were we going to learn something useful by all the negative energy associated with the ever growing bonfire? Was Trump an unknown? Has he ever been?
Trump is irrelevant. The guiding light opinions of sundry gaseous media is irrelevant.
As I grow incrementally withdrawn from the person of me and the space I physically inhabit I have begun to recognize my shadow. It is very long. It is as sharp as a dagger. It is a kinetic time bomb in my soul. It is awaking from a waking dream. Something about salt and tallow and the taste of dust. Something about trust.
I want to disappear so that I as laughter might remain as dissembled tears of joy in color and tone and flexing vexing determination. An imprecisely defined cojoining of life and death plus breath in my nostrils. A new day coming. With balance. With significance. Blissfully uninformed. Resistant to viral deception in all it's naked forms. Unmasked and unmade. Void of doubt. All and all for me, and none of me but for free...
