FINGER PHONES AREN'T TRACED. BOOM.
YESTERDAY, WAS A LIE. TODAY WILL ALSO BE A LIE. TOMORROW IS A MYSTERY, but it may also be a lie.
Taking it one day at a time excepting its outcomes and its responsibilities acknowledging its faults and trudging on. Must I meditate on my ideas only to succumb to the oddity of my existence living in the boroughs of life, love, and pursuit of happiness only not able to inhabit them all at my ever-essential whim? Breathe. Run on sentences echo my thoughts perfectly as I attempt to type them down. It seems an older white man wise beyond his age laps up the words and regurgitates them in my mind. Gotham City’s Alfred is a great example of the voice taking place here..or better yet…Morgan Freeman. I guess my philosophical being can also be an elderly black man. If it was an elderly black woman I assume it would be Maya Angelou. But tangents are not virtuous in this world.. They are just sentences lacking function in the grand scheme of the body’s regenerative motors. Whom one cannot see if they do not wish to see or one cannot believe if they do not wish to believe. I can only offer questions. If no one remembers it did it happen?
ease on down the rooooaaaddddddd.
And, now my brain continues to fart nothings with Jon Stewart in the background.. my brain is calm and my soul is evolving. FINGER PHONES AREN’T TRACED. BOOM.