…while busy being massaged by trumptin and the dangerous crew, robots are drinking our water-wells dry, stealing more land, choking our souls, dividing us, eliminating…
…what's the point, writing to you, your busy, dangling endless dreams full of scattered secrets filling up the stage. You've got your new electric bike and brain and love is a monopoly game. I want to be recognized for what I'm worth. You give it away to people you've never met; melting-images on a screen, wicked-words swimming beneath bloody sheets. Come on, give it up, i'm dying in here. The tubes are full, nothing but broken data, diseased machines. Can't you see the beauty in it all, the perfect deceit, the enormous scriptures floating across chemtrails in a breeze, women dressed with nothing but wounded hearts yearning beneath the leaves, smiles plastered against skulls, skin tight trends embarrassed to exist, tattooed dreams promising to live forever. It’s all there, we’re turning trans-blue in the heat, assassinations live killing dialog.
The whole world is crawling thru a darkened tunnel and you want to believe in spider man, jesus, some stagnant changeless symbol and i believe you should.
When you find the time, the inclination, the strength, come on over to the edge, take a look into the depth, you, all of us.. we are one, this is our world, we live and die together.. no matter what you think in this battle field of mystery, take the hike over the hills where certainty and nonsense are lovers.
Beauty walks a razors edge in the fold of clouded skies. We’re marching thru halls of possibilities, dreams of love and power and solid ends. Streets filled with virgin minds, universities of hope sitting on the edge of sweet disaster. Beauty walks undisturbed.
The world turns…. thoughts from along the ledge. Ophelia 65
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