It is raining outside.
So do not expect me to venture out much anymore.
Gut rot and heavenly musings.
There is no heaven, at least not for me.
I don’t believe in that shit, at least not anymore.
Reality is too real to try to blunt it with the abstract.
Yet here I am pounding my keyboard with vague eccentricism.
I won’t say what I really mean, so there will be no accounting.
Read whatever ye will into these here scribbles.
Every interpretation is profound and correct.
What am I really hitting at ?
A cry for help? an inside joke, only those on the outside will truly comprehend and be greatly amazed ?
Fate, superstition or ontological terrorism ?
I am not sure, but whoever wrote the gospels also created the first question mark.
Jesus doesn’t exist, he is what you want god to be.
God doesn’t exist, he is what you want to be….
Music by Dru
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