my one good eye blinked and just for an instant the world went dark I looked upon myself and silently cursed my fate I took a screwdriver to my mind rewired my persona but there was no relief from the literal devices that only brought me grief
everything’s a cliché practiced well enough this is a world of actors we simply have no choice it’s a question of survival we are mythology out of contention misdirected entertainers creatures in a zoo
but you don’t have to be afraid not of me I’m a misprint a blemish a social disease all that’s been eating you for the last ten thousand years are pre-packaged excuses and crocodile tears from where I am you don’t understand but I could be your guru I could be your holy man
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