artinsomnia

we are adults.
you wake up (you open eye...singular, we dont use BOTH eyes.) you realize that we are far being children. things are moving. slowly for some. light speed for others. soon we will all look up and we will be old. this...this issue of change, of transience is , it is driving me bat shit. the quest for knowldge is a scary one. you think you want truth, you look under each and every stone, each leaf, each pile of rocks and you fucking find the dirty truth. (here is where you insert what you thin the thruth is) MY truth, fuck it. and then again there is no truth, in my existence, only a hint. a maybe. the thing is, the cards are in the air, rotating, turning, they will land soon, maybe face up, or face down.




sure, fuck it, im a cryptic, i know it. i think.



it all has to with getting older, realizing that we are not made of indestrutable things. we get old. we lose the the parts of ourselves that make us pretty. what happens when that happens? what will you be left with?
















mutherfuckingotdamnetakingaloanforgoingtogotdamnedartschoolfuckthatshitbutiseegreathingscomingaboutfromtakingmymnedicine.




as always














fuck it.