Disillusionment strikes like a snake in the grass. As i am bitten it's poison starts to seep into my veins and my mind begins to ponder about my creator again. Maybe i was created from a page in a book, or a song that was sung. Wherever i came from it must have been long long ago. I can feel the antiquity in my soul. Maybe theres a hint of my name or face written somewhere in stone. Or in a story that begins once upon a time and ends in.... the end.

truth goodness and beauty in a classic way

the end of art
the examined life

freedom

existence precedes essence

reflex. reflexion. reflection.

Beauty is in it's blemishes

I couldn't have done it alone
I needed fresh eyes and a smooth tongue
My pallet was dry as my body was in a hot sweat
my breath it wept and sighed in your presence
I lied i said, and I'd do it again!
If only you could teach me how to move.
The sun was setting as all the trees slept.
The world it gets silent for a couple of seconds.
We hear it and take a deep breath as we drift.
And never look back again.

How Pretty

I need a type writer. I am typing. Things are good. Really Good. I'm typing. Things are good. Really good. I'm typing. Really good. Things are good. Remix.