Wander, bald ape, hold tight, the cold dagger. Rusted by disillusion. Stab the smiling man. Suffer and pain, fool. Rape and torture. Roam the jungle. That holds, our lost sanity. Chained to, a doomed future.
What's the point? What's the point? God you tell me, perhaps if we knew what the point was half the world wouldn't be an insane mess of madness.
Now that is poetry. I like your work Pellinore. What I've seen really shows the rusted painful side of life. That's something we just all need to get in touch with at some point or another in our lives.
Gah thank you.. perhaps you're right...perhaps its part of growning mature.. being confronted with this hard reality we live in.. i don't know.. its all very painfull at times.. i can understand now why people start using drugs like heroine.. but i suppose it is to us to find happyness.. perhaps in love.. perhaps in work.. friends.. nature.. gah, sometimes i wish i could just..dream forever, not having to worry about anything.
