The narcissism that dictates our movement from one surface to the next, to leave a mark of our own presence and individual occupation at times breeds false superiority. Ignorance and sheer blind self-lust cause flies to pitch incessantly on the shit that is, was, their miserable existence.
And as their concept of a life crumbles infront their eyes, they realise one thing:
That life truly is a bed of roses and that bees do sting.
So as butterflies who have envisioned their lives slipping away, they flutter against the sun's rays towards the gutters. The drains of a lost civilisation, destroyed by self-reliance and gross negligence. Yet the black sheep lags behind, a disgrace to some, a disappointment to all.
Lot should have looked behind and become a pillar of salt. [ed.]
Pure Mineral, to dissolve and reenter the elements.
A brutal and vast cycle of failure. A lucky deception, consciousness clings to virtual publishing. Can you stand the reign? weakness divides and strength conquers.
My serenity reflects maturity and the creative nature that resides deep within my tormented soul.
Sticks and stones may break some bones, but words will last a lifetime.