inner world
I hope for a day when happiness comes readily. Not in cloaks and deception but in monk robes. Some day when calm to des prevail over the tempestuous whirlpools of the dark grey clouds. But oh darling these are merely obscene desires for the mind is caged with the clawing out of flesh and neurons, a sordid mess. I await the macabre event of the saviour, mind on the edge.