irsinkast

It is really cold isn't it. Some one percent  is hauling it in.  The rest dangles  from the trees.  Hanging out to dry  or something.  No stranger than  southern fruit.  No different from it.  As color is no longer  a discriminating component  in this here dusk.  This is all of  an unprecedented blackness.  The new weight  is ownership.  The heavier you are  the harder to hang.  Everybody has bought into it  for the promise of a chance  at the title. This is a clever arrangement  with a huge contingency of failure  and an even larger circle of collateral.  They will take it all  and blame you for being  so stupid and careless.  For signing the contract.  It almost seems devised  to serve the purpose  of scraping the flesh  off the bones.  Every single acquisition  gets lost to the method.  The family land too.  You'd...

I see. You and me  and all of us  have these moments  too impossible to mention. We think they are  too feeble to mean anything.  So we cover them up  with beautiful  and exciting adventures  and forget all about them.  We delude  our potential.  We promise ourselves that  we shall live every ounce of this wretched life  to the fullest.  Wasting time is sinful.  Living,  forcibly is a deafening churning  conspicuous turmoil.  A flagrant legacy.  Every silent minute spent in search of  your own truths and standards  apart from the ruling belief system  is punishable by social rejection.  Which is like death  for a living being.  Our weakness  makes us fold.  Obeisant.  As if we are unable  and unworthy to discover  and develop our own morals.  Our self-worth.  That is something  all of them have feared  always.  Be...