Thursday, January 22, 2009

Sick :-(

When we go we will leave behind no written records of our passing, no etches in the stone, no words to be passed down year after year until generations hence will have twisted them into some sort of hidiouse monstrocity through which they can commit murders in our name. No manifestos will follow in our wake, no art to stand forever on display static as things were not meant to be, as little men with smaller minds do their best to scilently preserve the emptyness of before for all eternity to see. No pictures though. It scorns the light.

Instead we will leave scribbles on the sidewalk, pastel assualts against the unending blackness of an uncaring road that leads to no where except where ever you are going. Light laughture, and sometimes love will be born from our couplings singing gaily into the wind which blows scattering the sounds we make. Dust and ashes.

Nothing left behind. Except the feeling that there will be something great, always around the next bend.

Sorry I am sick, and I am more than a little sad and that was up lifting to me.

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