The blinding flashes of light in the sky that make our minds whir to thoughts that we don’t know very well ourselves, are the greatest moments of our lives. Lightning- it charges through my body and excites my senses. Thunder- the ominous crash of sound echoing through the cold, heartless earth, bringing goose bumps to my flesh. Laying in bed staring at the ceiling questioning life’s greatest mysteries; things I cannot question because the act of bringing the thoughts into reality is unachievable. Like a jail my ideas are kept in my mind. My tongue cannot project them nor can my fingers against the bouncing keys of my computer. Cycling, spinning, whirling is my brain- tossing, twirling, needing, wanting but never getting the answer to the question that has been sparked that cannot be said, heard or even explained by myself. The letters come together to form foreign words that describe things that people and myself cannot understand when uttered people laugh and judge the sounds from my mouth slowly rolling off my tongue. Different they call it- possessed by something I don’t quite understand. Can they see it? I feel it. It speaks of seven it speaks of six but it does not utter twelve or one for those are too pure for it’s demented intent. Is it in my eyes? Repelling those who cannot accept what cannot be named and me. Discouraged and helpless from moving on trapped in the void of obscurity and unknowing will my fate be hedonistic or masochistic big words to describe shitty and pleasurable images of the text to convince you how smart I am because the only real goal of life is being better then the next human.

What is it worth to the parade if some people get trampled? The bloody mess left over is cleaned up as we trudge on nobody notices the mess, the blood, the life draining into the sewers. What a waste.

Religion for how many ways we’re going to get fucked in the end.
Current Events for how fucked up we are.
History for how we fucked up.
….
Can you sleep at night knowing your going to die? Not now- but soon. Where will you go? Where will your thoughts go? All the ideas you never spoke, all the stories you looked back on and laughed about? Your history disappears, so what is it all for? Death the only important and meaningful thing yet so looked down upon. The dead our envied for they have found peace whereas we scuttle about like Ants under a magnifying glass burned by the heat of the sun that we are enslaved to circle around for all of eternity until we have expired the use for oxygen and die out leaving the earth dead and to decay like a empty cell.