Wheeling Weak Week: Day 3 of the Spectrum

79 01111001 65 01100101 6c 01101100 6c 01101100 6f 01101111 77

     It took me days to remember your name before I forgot it again, how all does that say about us and them in line for prayer? The impact was great and startling to my fragile being of uncertainty of the unknowns, but let’s recognize the weakness I offered up to nothing by the suggested surrendering of myself. Way to conquer the weak, and divide them among the many willing to serenity without applauding cause.
     And to or for what, pray tell, a feeling of belonging? I belong amongst the rationalists, not life pretenders sipping syrupy pamphlets of desires.

     Sure sure, it worked just for that day, let’s just discuss the results of your hypocrisy, the bigger daisy of the pictured portrait I’m painting. Smoke smoke smoke, you’re choking outside while you’re blind inside to the one white love. You drew up your demons like your idols, worshiping falsities and dancing to your downpour of shame, it’s just another pretty picture of despicable illustrations you could have burnt behind instead of left in the rain: and you called it—soma.

     A drink didn’t puncture me like a silver sliver didn’t, even so I’d have someone to drown with in the raining blood of my own. It’s not who you’d expect or speak against, no, no, I drown alone in the abyss once we fall all alone: the Lake of the Dead is mine to swallow up whole. Bucketfuls of my own lusting, I see you down there! surfing the turf of unexpected luck: thus your existence as a stable wobbling bored rider.

     I learned to swim, now how about you?

01110111