I could tell you who I am but... why should I bother? Most of you will forget in a matter of seconds... if I'm lucky maybe a few minutes at most. I'm not about to wallow in self-pity like I'm having an identity crisis, or something worse a mid-life crisis. To the imaginary big man up in the heavens must there always by some form stasis, that every little tiny being should go through in phases?
You can sit there and deny till your blue in the face, every being has a copious amount of cravings, and no I'm not talking about pregnancy cravings, you can keep your salt and vinegar bread to yourselves. I'm talking about the cravings for attention, the cravings to be the best at something... most probably mundane. Or the cravings to survive some obscure fictional reality ticking away in your numbskulls... I mean brains.
The cravings to be relevant, the cravings to be social! I'll have you know I was social in my day, maybe more social than I'd care to admit, but that doesn't matter because it always fell foul. The jealous rage the human race feels when things don't go there way is shocking, like hath no fury to it's core, or the door could just simply hit you on the way out... you've all thought... don't lie.
The way our hearts beat in the throes of joy as something happens be that joyful, or sinister, or dark or just karma hitting the twat back. It's a fact that the humans race likes simple things, simple emotions, simple actions, and stupid damn questions. Holy mother of all things nice, sweet and spicy whoever invented the abbreviated version ASL? needs to rot in hell, the true answer that will always be Awesomely Sexy Legs. Even though the statement might well be a lie..
Dark lies, and white lies, black lilies and white lilies, we always forget about the grey... the thing that's between the lies, the white so pure, and the black damned, the grey always obscure. A fortification that the grey line is the truth that will leave you floored. The white lie is drugs are good for you, the dark lie is that drugs are bad for you, but the grey line is your fucked either way.
Never mind that of which is which, when something else boggles the mind like How did the person know that the blue sky was really blue? Or how did the person decide that an orange is the colour orange?
Or how does human nature go from one motion to the next like a never-ending repetitive cycle without learning from the mistakes of the past?
Should a story arrive from this narrative, should a name be involved, or even found?
Human nature IS the story of a life untold...
You can sit there and deny till your blue in the face, every being has a copious amount of cravings, and no I'm not talking about pregnancy cravings, you can keep your salt and vinegar bread to yourselves. I'm talking about the cravings for attention, the cravings to be the best at something... most probably mundane. Or the cravings to survive some obscure fictional reality ticking away in your numbskulls... I mean brains.
The cravings to be relevant, the cravings to be social! I'll have you know I was social in my day, maybe more social than I'd care to admit, but that doesn't matter because it always fell foul. The jealous rage the human race feels when things don't go there way is shocking, like hath no fury to it's core, or the door could just simply hit you on the way out... you've all thought... don't lie.
The way our hearts beat in the throes of joy as something happens be that joyful, or sinister, or dark or just karma hitting the twat back. It's a fact that the humans race likes simple things, simple emotions, simple actions, and stupid damn questions. Holy mother of all things nice, sweet and spicy whoever invented the abbreviated version ASL? needs to rot in hell, the true answer that will always be Awesomely Sexy Legs. Even though the statement might well be a lie..
Dark lies, and white lies, black lilies and white lilies, we always forget about the grey... the thing that's between the lies, the white so pure, and the black damned, the grey always obscure. A fortification that the grey line is the truth that will leave you floored. The white lie is drugs are good for you, the dark lie is that drugs are bad for you, but the grey line is your fucked either way.
Never mind that of which is which, when something else boggles the mind like How did the person know that the blue sky was really blue? Or how did the person decide that an orange is the colour orange?
Or how does human nature go from one motion to the next like a never-ending repetitive cycle without learning from the mistakes of the past?
Should a story arrive from this narrative, should a name be involved, or even found?
Human nature IS the story of a life untold...