a man hates himself and the world by extension. the more he hates the world, the more he can see the corruptive taint reality has painted him in, and the more he hates himself. he has a violent love toward life, but hates it simultaneously. is this a well-adjusted man? does he see truth, or merely a reflection of his own madness?
the fool decries a set of tenets from god. are they real? what standards can be ascribed to the inscrutable and impredictable? is god a man analogue, or vice versa? the fool cants on.
the journeyman, walking the path he must. is he a victim of circumstance and fortuna? can he determine his own path, or is he lost to predestination of mathematical probabilities?
the lover, seeing his love, is torn in two. are pheremones the culprit? is his love no more than chemical signals in his diseased and imbalanced brain? is this love of the soul, or of the body? a bloody bunch of flowers rest upon his mind, pressing thorns in deeper.
~this post is purposeless, and has no meaning save what you give it. answer or not, it is all the same.~
the fool decries a set of tenets from god. are they real? what standards can be ascribed to the inscrutable and impredictable? is god a man analogue, or vice versa? the fool cants on.
the journeyman, walking the path he must. is he a victim of circumstance and fortuna? can he determine his own path, or is he lost to predestination of mathematical probabilities?
the lover, seeing his love, is torn in two. are pheremones the culprit? is his love no more than chemical signals in his diseased and imbalanced brain? is this love of the soul, or of the body? a bloody bunch of flowers rest upon his mind, pressing thorns in deeper.
~this post is purposeless, and has no meaning save what you give it. answer or not, it is all the same.~
