showroom of compassion
Empires are risen and destroyed within our sonar shores. Everyone has a place but I can't seem to find mine. I see the dark turn of time, and it breaks my inner signals up. It's getting cold landlocked and frozen in past desolations throes. less temporary than the styrofoam cups, broken down cars and pick-up trucks. With whiskey and boredom peace can be found in sprawling lines of anonymous ideas written on pages with simple complexity. Develop the self in rage against the system that betrays me, us. Word is no bond anymore, papers and copies are what spurs the system forward, absent and untrusting as we slip by in the corridors. Be good, be kind, be interesting. I've got a soft spot for anything.