Saturday, November 19, 2011


There are many things in this world that drive men crazy, but none more than he himself, when left to his own designs.

That thought would sever sanity from institution, truth from reality, reason from time!

For regret eats at regrets, fending off advances by his sound being to rectify the tilt to his balance. But instead, the fuel squandered on distinctly impossible equations of remotely adequate versions of his reality.

A festering curiosity for the painfully obvious, yet deliberately oblivious.

For don't we all question, "why didn't we?"

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