Millions of cars, commute, traverse, so far But all points are equal and there's really no difference Nobody really goes anywhere anymore In the moments I consume and produce There is something behind a curtain occurring; breath As time passes and its infinite passage suffocates me A prehistory reveals itself; my only consolation for living today Somebody realizes, and that somebody must be me There is nothing but the memory of having once been alive
Thanks man. It really feels like we're never really fully conscious of our own lives, except when we're living dangerously or passionately. LSD is one of the few things that does the trick for me.
Life and Death are both unquenchable thirsts which people too often seek to satiate with a static, secure existance. Yet even in their bubbles of comfort they live and die. They simply tune out the experience. Amusingly enough, they will in many cases employ the same substances for this mockery of an attempt at staving off their Divine Humanity that others use to tune in to IT.
