((((((((((((God is dead, Let's go to sleep)))))))))))))))))

((((((((((((God is dead, Let's go to sleep)))))))))))))))))

It was relevant to me, as I sat in this stoic isolation, that luck is a fabricated story,

endlessly sought out by charms and relics, to infuse bastardized thoughts onto men and

woman.

There is no end to my macabre foundation, in sight I am of statue, in audible

conversation , the collapse of the twin towers is a complimenting sound.

Care to run down the stairs with me?

We will count the bodies thud on the way .

Lets face it, we are karma, we push onto our own will and excuse ourselves by placing

the figment of greater known stories not yet held as fact , but by imagination.

My imagination is God.

My imagination is Dead.

My imagination was a flow of ink.

My imagination is a worthless fuck.

My imagination has no vows.

My imagination is a mushroom cloud in the garden of Eden

My imagination is.

Shame is the disfigurement towards the guilty, but the social norm puts in policy for the

counter culture to act as if disfigurement is a birth right.

So the cruelest of jokes is played by fallacious remarks and contended insight to the

abolition of what “we all believe” versus “what we know “, the subtle contradiction of

this quaint match seems poignant and out of breath.

Try to keep up with the race.

Written By Adam Guerra - Posted 05/10/12