A shiny see-through lady.

A large clock.

Some delicious candy.

A girl.

A forgotten place.

Ghost Sonata

"I gaze into the sun

And surely now I see

The ever hidden One

Behind Infinity.

And, beaming forth, the sun

This lyric sang to me:

All men exist through pain-

ful work, as you can see.

Yet this alone his gain,

His immortality,

And blessed is the one

Who helps his enemy.

The seeds that anger sows

Return but ill, you'll see;

The greatest work man knows

Is love and charity.

- August Strindberg

Rushing Through Concrete

He got stuck! Silly man!

"The Story Of Worship"

Gender has a problem with serene men. Not outstanding to co-exist our story, Mr. Nonchalance lives to be alive. Expectantly though nobody will be at decree to the timely chicken that crossed the thoroughfare.

After much prudence he as a final point saw from side to side the lacewings and the comprehensible water. Subsequent to waking, he asked his nurse for an Apple Pie and she said bereavement to all the midgets.

Owing to the actuality that the esteemed doped up ladies lynching from kindling, that couldn't see the moment in time because the chronometer was in the way. He stood, to the colossal monster, which wreaked havoc and destruction on the diminutive rural community, further than the horizon.

"He" - We do not know, but to arbitrate this we accept as true it to be the perception of verve in the sagacity of infantile behaviour. Existing in an incapacitated existence leads one to misapprehend rabbits living in the unperturbed homeland of uproar.

So the midgets fell, one by one, as the nurse had summoned the giant. Mr. Nonchalance, immobile who lives to be alive, but "he" doesn't identify with rabbits. Where does this lead us? To the physical education building, of course! The jamboree took consign at midnight but the fortification is painted amethyst.

They all stood in a procession looking at the fortification, the nurse fully clad to dinner, Mr. Nonchalance as voluminous as eternally still, living to be alive and the colossal giant holding "he" in a leisurely manner. Nevertheless of course, the chicken had to materialize in one way or another, so he inverted his shaggy dog story and stayed to one elevation.

Who alleged the chicken jargon be auburn or exist a he at that?

It blew up!

So finishing the existence of them, each and every one - that is the fortification of course via quintessence the fortification pounced in flame and whispered "hello" to the inclement characters of worship. Merely one survived, but in a judiciousness of astrophysical protuberance in the hastiness of life and the proceedings obtainable. An egg was laid. So the implementation of the circle of life.

The egg was obscured in rubble and grime so as a substitute of hatching it grew, conjure that - a pullet laid an egg for the innovative verve of a bird but in it's place a chick-tree was untaught. Now, one to think of a hierarchy amid a beak and feathers instead of foliage would be most extraordinary bar, Rudolph and his acquaintances, that now measured him a homosexual for his endeavour with, Santa Claus acknowledged it.

Commit to memory folk's rabbits that "he" was anxious of subsequent little people dying. Their principal, The Easter Bunny.

Come again?

We see at this juncture how misapprehension and castle in the sky overdevelop to befall one madness and disarray of an anecdote.

We all may ask one analogous inquiry of what happened to the chick-tree beneath which Rudolph and his beneficiaries grazed and devoured? Not all the characters have left this chronicle for the reason we recognise the chick-tree lives on, so do the rabbits and the Easter Bunny in conjunction with Rudolph and all. Aeons pass and the reindeers putrefied to mature epoch but our hierarchy amid a beak impartial on the clammy loam tranquil shading the grazing vicinity.

Commencing this tree's kindling the fresh, passionate women swang en route for the blinded era, the cascade of lucid irrigate speckled it's ancestry so it could supplementarily expand to astonishing heights. The rabbits beneath the direct supremacy of the Easter Bunny roamed the terra firma once more plus the successors of Rudolph and all came to the consign of origin. Furthermore, flush as we be acquainted with it to subsist fallacious the indefinite but genial fortification was built once more to shield this tree. It's paint misrepresented to but cerulean.

fin

Love, Peace & Chicken Grease

"Life is meant to be lived, to build experiences ... so live it."

He smiled at me as he shoveled dirt from one mound to another. Hot thick air stands around us, heating our lungs, drying out our insides. Water sloshes down a throat and spills onto a white singlet - patchy with grime & mud.

From him I seek counsel.

Romantic counsel. This of course makes no sense, he has been married to one woman his entire life, legally since 2004, emotionally since he was sixteen, he's now twenty-six. No other woman has lay with him.

How?

How do you consign yourself to one mate for life, forever? It doesn't seem natural it doesn't seem instinctual. A human being just does not seem like the creature who lives one life, one lover. We have a duty to procreate, we are social beings. Sex is and always will be a need of mine.

I think the answer is, God.

We design a God that is perfect, that wants us to abide by commandments ... don't steal, don't kill ... don't be an adulterer, don't lie. These are all impossible by human standards, we steal everyday, we lie everyday and in certain circumstances we'll kill without apprehension or delay. We created something we can't uphold, we threw down laws and indoctrinated our children with it because of some collective moral compass, but none of us really believe in it.

I'll love.

I'll love freely, one sexual interaction with another doesn't dilute another sexual interaction with another other.

Maybe I'm immoral. I don't care.

How I do crave romance though. Does my approach to physical love conflict with my desire for emotional surrender. Complete and utter romantic love?