Lets talk. He lifted his cup of coffee. The horses head rolled off, what a great reality. To realize falseness is created only when light is shed on ignorance. Knowledge is the possession of a blind woman. Men too may possess it, but perhaps I shouldnt speak for other sexes. I speak for humanity though, and I hope these words do not smear that. The grass turned brown, and school children celebrated their picnic. Boys stared at girls breasts and they wondered about their own sexuality. The old woman stared, never sensual, but always intimately sexual. These are all memories, of a single moment, a single moment that was several moments, an infinite series of moments when you take into account perception. I am sure this has been said a thousand times, I have never taken the time to research it, and besides what they say, it does not provide quite the release for me that typing my own story does. The story of small things that last forever, big humans suffocated by nothing while thirsting for everything. Hominids, questioning their own species even before the archaeologist could redefine just who our parents were.
Glass houses. Rocks of water. See, my glass house isnt so vulnerable. My contradictions, well they are too comfortable to be anything other than convenient, we mustnt question them. That crying little girl that deserves so much more pain than she already has, well she is a sympathetic character, I am not ashamed to cry along with her. We cry for death, and we shun the life that searches so openly for a way to live. Stone minds are stoned, revealing some softness that really does not exist at all. And parents celebrate mothers Day while their children are being killed by the very traditions their parents uphold. Let me state something that just may have been stated already, depending on your perception of course, dont question it. Throw your rocks, watch them bounce off. Ultimately though, throwing only takes your arms from you. Numb as they are with the pain of repetition.
Was he innocent? Why must we pass judgement when children are guilted? Why should I feel guilty when the mistakes we make are the result of our own attempts? Attempts that defied a regimented life. Attempts that spit at a godless world. A world which turns round for simplicities sake. Random thoughts. This is consciousness, isnt it?
(Not finished)
Please Respond: )
