Drowned By Story/Letters to No One

Where is authenticity?  Nervousness can change any positive to a negative – just you watch.

* * *

Odd isn’t it, a fear of aging but a desire to die before becoming old?

* * *

Today, yesterday and tomorrow have nothing in common.  Even your own particles change constantly – possibly even drastically.

God is language.  Communication among the quarks.

* * *

Everything is based upon the terrain wherein it resides.  Failure is subject to a vantage point.

“Good and evil are so monstrously mixed up in man.”  Dostoevsky

* * *

Divided.  Insufficiently surrounded; naked and captive as the mouse stuck on trap seeing its opening but unable to remove its fur from the glue.   A loss could be worth it.  The first sacrifice should be what?  Morals over mortality.  Isolate.  Cleave.  Glory always fades.  Luck is a creation and myth built on love’s lack of stability.

Man is in translation to be given to next generation.  How archaic we are – war and catechism. Fashion and false fascism preached on TV.  And so further down the canyon goes til it conquers the core itself.

But beauty is the sole survivor, sad as it is.  The monster falls to it.  Yet, not the awe of worthless paintings.  No, not the strummings. Only in nature and in humans.  A certain curvature . . . Cling to this.  It is all that remains day into day.


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