i
If something is simply the way it is, there’s a way to justify it,
ii
What was I saying,
iii
I carry my spirit with me, my youth, my beating heart, and all the dirt poured over it,
iv
Gross, isn't it,
v
The way I see it, art is the currency of the heavens, their reward, for an interesting perspective, or a life well-lived, maybe it’s some sort of freedom from demons, or it could be their expulsion, given form and peace, what sort of beauty, for a ghost to pass and look pretty,
vi
My eyes are up here,
vii
All art is just a perspective, a lens to view the world with,
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
viii
My worst nightmares,
ix
Such a sad world,
x
We're just corpses, our existence, our slivers of life, are dependent, on looking at each other, and whispering, flickering flames, on short-lived candlesticks,
xi
Fucks you, throws you a towel, clean yourself up, and I was the towel,
xii
One of the greatest blessings in this world, is to be as far away from the question as possible, with no hint of action, with no possibility, there is no need for consideration,
xiii
Nothing, no one, and nobody,
xiv
Two of them tell lies,
xv
Such a dark perspective,
xvi
What if there was good in the world,
xvii
People passing each other on the street,
xviii
Some places, they just pluck flowers from the streets,
xix
But does Red Riding hood make it home most days,
xx
Who can say,
xxi
Needs statistics on this stat,
xxii
There are all sorts of reasons for strings to pull, reasons to bear the weight of your body, allowing you to dance,
xxiii
Shadows and reflections, that’s all I desire, passing air, what’s not real,
xxiv
So much yearning, and I'm just a doctor,
xxv
Release it,
xxvi
Wear a rubber,
xxvii
Infinitesimal,
xxviii
If you sit around too long, you’ll start worrying about nothing,
xxix
What was that, is it sobriety and executive function,
xxx
If you understand life as a turn-based game,
xxxi
But life is a flowing river, isn't it...
