Memoirs From the Meaningless Minds of Men

These lives are making me.
Pushing in,
Shrugging aside false assignments.
Dancing the night all the way through,
Just for some peace of mind,
And a chance to sleep.
These words aren’t thoughts,
But lives, playing out in our networked mind.
I see double,
Triple,
Infinity.
Time’s phasing out,
With the arrival of a new era,
I see a hero upon great heights of understanding,
And he’s bringing great promises.
An old man ambles up,
Smiling with time on his side, finally.
Full of memories, sadness and remembrance.
A child, absent from the world, starts to cry.
“I don’t wanna be alone, but I’ve never been stupid.”
A landscape.
Setting suns and enclosing arrangements of moisture, flying high.
With an understanding of reflection in sight,
My soul exists in unity with the silent nights, and careless summer mornings.
‘This is a fiction you use to ease the transition into meaningless-ness’,
Reminds a voice.
Words come from deep within, communicating existence into simple symbols:
“Meaningless-ness holds no meaning.
Existence in itself is a justification for existence.
The plague of decadence in the form of ‘other-world’ reverence,
Will not live on in me.
This life is for the sake of life.
It does not have to be real, true, or rational.
But simply mine.”

faces

And these faces remind us we see through mirrors and lighting tricks.

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