On the road

Three-quarters of the way down to the impossible, I conclude that rational thought is the ultimate illusion. The alternative is that I am completely mad and beyond redemption. Either way, this is heaven.

Morning Whispers

Lies. All lies. Beautiful lies. Those are the morning alarms with harp' sounds and soft melodies. Lies! There is no urgency to the day. There is nothing that must be done. Tomorrow may never come.

Returned

There is the perennial question inquiring into my being. How are you? They ask, and I blindly respond. I respond blindly and unfiltered. I respond untouched by society. I respond. I respond and seek validation. I respond and seek acceptance. How am I? The truth in the response is illusive, ephemeral, and empty. I remain untouched by society, and seeking to touch it. The glass wall is still there. The air that I breathe is still free.