Sinking deeper into that pit, the darker recesses of his mind, of which there were many. Growing and expanding outwards like some helium filled balloon. Dreams and mirrors. Spiralling ever downwards in this court of madness. Blackened seas that drown and liberate, and bring towards you joyous revealing. Do make merry at the expense of others, and at the expense of yourself. Degrade the things that keep you chained, do not accept their judgement for it is always false and eternally biased. These thigns we are, for the things we know would drive any man insane. Just as it has ourselves. But we still remain aware, still know just what it is that we are. And we can move and walk and talk not puppets of our madness but free thinking peoples. Perhpas in truth the only ones who really do think freely. An interesting concept that. Isn’t it? There was once the dream of a man who waited. All to like the woman who waited only to be greeted by the sparrow. This man was on a beach, a hankerchief in hand, not knowing what the future would hold but apparently ready to wipe its dirty nose if it was to come. This man stayd there, day night ever nwards. Through rain and storm and sun. Never moving till the spiders and crabs surrounded him. Till the sea weed did ruin his find clothes by hanging against. Eventually the tide would take and he’d be washed away into freedom. Laughing all the while. What does this teach? That it does no good to sit and wait for things that will never come? Perhaps this is true. But to jump into the sea would have had the same effect, to noow that dark cold embrace that never lets you go. To give into it is easy. To swim out of it is more difficult. A task beyond most of any with a mind of their own. One needs a goal in mind to swim out of those waves. But even then that sea seeks to keep you, and even if you do make it to shore. It will continue dragging you back, that place it never leaves you. It never lets you go. It always wants back to crawl inside your head like the maggots infesting a corpse. Breeding and eating and decaying. Nothing ever remains the same, to wait. Is not to hold truth.
exp:432
pwc:407
