Phew

I've been on this train many times before.
Every time I see the same scenes; only certain elements are altered: the weather, the time of day.
I usually assume, for my comfort, that there are others who take this train but I can't be too sure. I've never actually seen them. I think they get on at a different time.
I am never fully aware that I'm on it. I only come to a start at the end of the line.
I'm getting sick and tired of this chain of carts and landscapes: sentiments have no purpose in this shape and form.

Oh, look at them: crying out for revolution with their crayon-drawn posters and their hearts, broken or otherwise, on their sleeves. Such naivety calls for a proper spanking but, personally, I prefer letting them sit in their pool of tears, hand in trembling hand, muttering previously uttered words of freedom, peace and love...until they realise that no two people are ever the same and that the hand they hold will be either too big or too small for them.
Sadly, however, not all will be granted this epiphany.

And remember, floods that follow broken dams don't always make sense.





" "Why so serious?" "Uh, cause you're holding a knife to my throat?" "






Listening to -