Perplexed

I have all those things but nothing for you. And yet nothing for you. Somehow. I want to share warmth with numerous vessels, but it isn't meant to happen. The body doesn't know how to contain things at times. The pain and glory of the football yesterday, and the boxing, and the winners and losers and how somehow it seems to contain all life in those there moments. There is ugliness, absolute beauty, passion, heartbreak, love, skill, grace and just about everything you could ask for.

I am in a state of confusion. The way people are controlled by their desire for money, the fakest rich on earth, the way they are manipulated into doing things, like they are programmed, and living their entire lives out this way is totally perplexing to me. I watch the TV take complete control of the viewers, like it were using the remote on them. It certainly seems far more fascinating to watch a person watching the TV and their utter possession by this modern tool. It consumes them, feasts on their brains, controls their pea-sized minds. Probably shrinks them down. Alas, the freedom to decide, to breathe in the air (perhaps even fresh air some time) and not be intoxicated by the fumes of the money giants. They can't smoke me out!

I am plotting and planning and scheming and trying to build a time machine. This place, this time, it really makes me think. I got trapped here, in the wrong place and wrong time. I gave so many things a chance and they didn't reciprocate. I feel like humanity doesn't generally become more open minded, it just has more options, which in the end means there are more doors that can be viciously slammed in one's face.

I could keep writing. I'll probably do it until my last breath. I will do it beyond my arms dropping off. I could be like something that just falls apart, some badly made toy, after so little time. I will receive my last thought, from wherever they come from, and it will be simple - what total and inexplicable madness, how very perplexing.