The cabin

Me and some friends made a club house out of my garage for all the kids in town to come smoke and drink. This is a reflection i made sitting by myself one quiet night once my regular company had gone.

 

   I sit here now, constently conveying a message of calm in a place of truely depraved insainty. In this sturcture, this simple build of pleasures, the children all search now. The summer ending, the war haulting for a time, they all seek a place to lay and sleep, lost in self reflection.

    This place, our space is a circus. This place poetically reflects the minds of the people who have occupied this home. The hard concrete floor, stained with the echos of our sin, the walls poisoned with our laughter. For once it would seem, this place is empty. For a short time, our cabin in the middle of a city is silent.

    It acts as a becon, a sanctuary, a place for all of us to hide. Once we close the door, once the graceful sun sets, we crawl into the deep rabbit hole, snug and safe. We are safe from the soldiers, pirates, and monsters outside. Those manifistations of this town. In this place, one of the last of its kind, we are exempt from the war. We are safe, rebels yes, but safe.

    In this circus, this humble shack we can not be harmed. In this true home, tempory dwelling, we do not feel time; We dont age, we feel no pain..we escape.

    We are insain..lost and truely insain to believe this marage.