Fidelity and frugality combined together in insanity. Rhyming words of no meaning thrown together with the fluttering of fingers slowly forming across the screen. Alcohol flowing through the veins and thoughts flowing through the brains of those who know which way to flow. Funky co-medina.
We reach the peak amidst the weak and flicker through the images pressed against our eyes. Some things go and some things blow with an icy flow running against our tonsils in the late hours.
We chat and speak of things we don't truly know and ...
Fuckit. Flow.
The money is what it is.
The money controls. There are some who simply use the money. Agh, White Russians are my downfall in the intellectual conversations I try to control as they surge through. Intellectual. Perhaps I'm thinking a little too highly of myself.
There are a few people in the world. Screams. AGHHH! Those who let the money do the work for them. Not the professional shit. Simple shit. Clean up after yourself, after the storm. Drama. Hahahahahaha. Wash your own vehicle. Plant your own garden. Do your own thing. Those who do seem to live the fruitful life.
We can dine in Paris.
Watch them run from the bulls in Madrid. Terribly wrong ultraviolence.
Spectate as the world's finest break the records set by old men with false hips.
We use the money to sit back and watch others achieve.
And then there are those who take it upon themselves. Don't hire a nanny. A maid. They climb the walls of the mesa, arms flexing, death one wrong handhold below. We, no, they travel the earth, stepping over stones others would drive around. They make something worth speaking about. Compromise.
But I've already passed the point where I can do anything that will imprint my name upon anyone's mind.
All to be forgotten.
As ages long lost have become.
Translations lost as the sand weathers away the faces of stone which once may have held the meaning to what we do.
To have a talent.
To be...something.
Past.
Always the lesson that there is a way for us to be more than what we are.
Equivalent exchange. You must have something equivalent to what it will become.
You cannot simply make energy. You must sacrifice equal proportions of something.
Shit. Step inside and see what's happening.FUCK YOSUHUTUP!
No body listens anymore. The buzzkill of the day. Speak from the heart and everything gets shrugged off by ....
everyone. Goodnight my dears and sleep well, sometime we'll catch the end.
