There's nothing to mourn about death any more than there is to mourn about the growing of a flower. What is terrible is not death but the lives people live or don't live up until their death. They don't honor their own lives, they piss on their lives. They shit them away. Dumb fuckers. They concentrate too much on fucking, movies, money, family, fucking. Their minds are full of cotton. They swallow God without thinking, they swallow country without thinking. Soon they forget how to think, they let others think for them. Their brains are stuffed with cotton. They look ugly, they talk ugly, they walk ugly. Play them the great music of the centuries and they can't hear it. Most people's deaths are a sham. There's nothing left to die.
We're all going to die, all of us, what a circus! That alone should make us love each other but it doesn't. We are terrorized and flattened by trivialities, we are eaten up by nothing.
Checked out Niagra Falls today... Pretty fookin' cool eh? I actually enjoyed it quite a bit. Not much else as of now, so be good and eat your God damned Vegetables!
______________________________________ Sobriety in life.
The "Winning" has stopped.
And this "losing" has become a sad, tired joke.
Go ahead and laugh though...
I usually end up doing just that before crying.
Setting the spirit free and waiting patiently (If not a tad bit worried) for it's return.
This night while debating myself into yet another stupor...
I pulled out the venom and injected.
I walked on the beach where the sand bar meets ocean.
Where the ocean meets forever.
Bottle of beer in one hand cracked open and half drunk.
Bad poetry in the other, crumpled up into sad little wads in the other.
Always willing to get rid of a burden I deserted one...
and finished the flat beer while disapearing into a very strange and rediculouse evening.
Before I lay down with those same damn ghosts to talk out our differences and make an offenseive plan against our demons,
I grabbed the first beautiful woman and kissed her full on the mouth.
We both had our moment.
Crying and laughing like two lunatics.
When will somebody drive a stake through the heart of this madness?