Policemen’s riot! What is waste in the material world of the spirit where knowledge born of long experience brings you the ultimate boon of the etherial truth? What elements of folly follow one around a darkened chamber in mockery of the present now where all that was count up comes to naught. One is left the the vagaries of an empty museum of doubt where crimes go unpunished. Where then is one’s empire of folly? In the back pocket of ice-cream heated dreams?
The chamber is lit. Emptiness prevails. Subject verb leaves no room for error. This is the life you have lived minus the doubts of others. Words by themselves are no achievement. Counter a phrase with an action and the rustle is the same. The rat droppings of humanity just outside the door. Oh for those glorious days of stupidity when ignorance was bliss! A toast heard round a gunmetal room. Echoing magic in the baseboards. No end in sight.
Now there is nothing. Save an empty body lost in a sea of ignorance of self. The endless war of the Sun and the sky and the blades of grass under foot. Which one will survive? The measure of the man between the sticks. Which one has more villainous reserve? Just who is the fool in the room that takes precedence? A mellow sigh issues from the depth of my flesh. Maestro, the baton please! Where, when and why. The eternal march continues to the plateau of empty space. Limbo can’t be far off from these precincts.
I used to think I was a man out there but only once. But that was all a cardboard fabrication of spit and bad Hollywood. Now I am a pair of sightless eyes going through the motions or rediscovering the fatal thing called hope. What cities ahead are covered in the fog of my unerring doubt. What can exist in an empty tin can? A hundred sets of arms pulling to the same call. This is progress and I hate them for it. A volcano of unrest. No more phony blood to be spilt please! I would rather see the room choking on spit than to spend another day of this!