Naked Ramblings of a Drunken Sphinx
A Story by
transentience
It's true, we all assume what's read between the here's and then's, reconfigure our perspective to simulate what must fit in, you know, the fears we feed to justify our paranoia-fueled stereotypes--preconceieved--as we deceive (ourselves?). Surely, somewhere down the line, we humble ourselves in light of discovering the darkness wherein our own ignorance hides (usually snickering from behind and tiptoeing from within our shadows), right? Well if I could tell you what you want to hear--tickle your bubbly belly and make you feel warm and safe instead of spinning this gonzo-crazed idiosyncratic maze of words that force you to say "Who the where and what the hell do you do?", to prompt my response "Why do I feel everything too much all the time?!"--I'd whisper it all into your ear and you'd probably get a little wet. But we haven't even done coffee yet, and no one ever tells me s**t, so feast upon the emotions you abandoned in wha t ever form they manifest in and maybe, one day, you'll change your mind. Until then just try and find yourself through the abandoned tears in your past lifes' eyes. You'll probably find them in worn and weathered mirrors, lost within a turbulent time. Remember that the rivers run through valleys because they traced the arcs of prismatic light to guide, in dark, the ways in which the Earths decompressing veins branched out like lightning through stormy clouds and adrenaline in a heart-sleeved, skyward vessel. And if its elating to know, every time I pray you never cease to cross my mind...But I guess that, at the end of this, what I'm really trying to say is I'm just grateful to be alive. div>