Once There Was a Man Once there was a man who plucked out his own eyes, for he knew that he could never trust them. Things were never as they seemed, and time and time again he was fooled into believing in that which was little more than optical illusion. He saw buildings floating in the sky, light being bent on the horizon and morphing solid terrain into rippling distortions, rainbows slicing through the air with every appearance of form and tangibility. And what was more, these worthless organs not only saw that which was not there to be seen, but they failed to see those things which truly mattered- the air one breathed, the energy that pulsed through one's body, the soul of a man. Any matter of true consequence tended to pass right by him unseen, and his eyes served only to inundate him with nonsensical sensory overload. And so it was that he wrenched the cursed things from his skull, the pain excruciating, but a necessary step, he knew, in acquiring that rare ability of truly seei
Ignorance Is BlissHow I envy foolsThose born without theEyes to see the darkness; theEars to hear the lies; theSkin to feel the chafing cold; theSense to realize:There's darkness all around us,Lecherous and black.We lead a meaningless existence.Bitter, I turn back.How I envy foolsLiving life, never knowingThe storm on the horizon;Her clouds fill up the skies.They do not see the warnings,Nor hear the gentle "sigh"Of the wind that's brewing.They do not feel the rain.Their never-knowing stateIs all that keeps them sane.How I envy foolsThey know nothing of painWill they ever find it,The truth that I now know?The sky is torn with violent lightThe stormy gales blow.The tempest is upon us,But still their eyes are blind.The lucky fools will never knowWe are all
LuckyA lucky flyskitters and loopsnear aimlesslyonto your ceilinglight,where it crawlsinside andspends its lasthour of life,before a fluorescentdeath, baskingin shamelesswarmth;transforming intoa tiny sunspotthat even youwould needa ladderto reach.
An Infinite MomentThere is so much writingand music on ourdeath, our inescapableend.Both soldiersand inmates,we are fightingand we deserve this.It is not somethingto dwell on,or mourn ourselveswith cracked speech.We are here foreach other, asalways-together,together we willpray for rain.