and as I awake today I remind myself that the agony of mankind is resolved by various means.
my eyes that capture fleeting memories. The old man's shoulders cast broad shadows across my face. Slick back your bandana, the leathered face of chaos. Every enlarged and immobilized pore stretching across vast spans of skin. The old man, thrown into the fire with lessons learned and forgotten. The fleeting memory of a painful love forgotten. The passing time simply numbs. Again like animals we prey and fiend for more. Those processes we justify. Take hold your passion, old man. You'll find your purpose in books.
the old man travels uncertain roads. It is mankind that forgets that all roads lead to roads. a reversed dead end, an infinite connection. The persistent enemy without escape. The bandana's fabric whisks in the wind. How ideal this road, leading into a sunset, a diner stop for poetic nutrition. The head full of beautiful ideas that fiends for an agonizing view. The terror of possibility in infinite space. Each second usurps the former. For each second he awarded himself the next. for all seconds the revolt contrasted a hollowed living.
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