Truth Based on Fear

There are twenty-three dissertations about what exists and what is just a mere delusion. The tentacles we manifest can control all but the logic inside our correction. The laughter we built for them to appreciate your companionship can’t be the composition of the bedlam we call time.

It is not synaptic, it is not biological. It is what we want to construct from skin. It is what we suck from souls.

Everything is holy, but not any more holier than you or me. How can you give attributes to the contexts you can’t possibly synthesize? Do you believe in the mythology of sight? How is a cataclysm any more symbolic than a kiss you’ve hold.

To me, there is not such a thing as faith. There can be hope of not losing the fabric of my memoires when I’m gone, but I acknowledge that it is just a truth based on fear.


Newer Post Older Post Home