place your bets before the tables close

thought i might write a bit but then i thought what is really the point? i used to think that i wanted to be a writer but the more that came the more i felt like it was a chore rather than an interest, something insightful and fulfilling….but then why should i even care what the rest of humanity thinks…

people now days seem driven by ignoring the solemn oath of friendship and trust, these thoughts and feelings which bind, and build and sometimes become lost to the frenzy that is life. we breathe all the same and emotions boil right underneath the surface, and the brew can become stagnant, infesting the thoughts and actions which create consequence, which in turn creates growth. we may not always grow into the beautiful butterfly whose wings share color and grace, but nevertheless we evolve, if that is infact what you can call it.

our demons hold onto us, the shell we pretend belongs solely to us, the one which so many cling so wildly to, while others still deny their existance wishing only to remove their occupancy from the shell….such extremes that there may never be a happy medium not for some. and day in and day out we hear how the world is tired of listening to all the bullshit but again and again of free choice and negeligence people force their way into each others lives and create chaos all the while saying i don’t give a fuck who you are or what you think simply proving the fallacy in their very statement. to whom are you proving that you don’t care, yourself? must you write it to make yourself believe it or does it prove only simply too much to leave out of sight out of mind? the world will keep spinning on its axis devouring time like an addictive drug,

then the wind blows and the world tumbles into a void, everything lost, still swirling out of control, and then you open your eyes. in the end will the words thrown about like daggers penetrating soft flesh still tear about our hearts of dying lust and weep those tears staining the ground with its heartless decay of incessant meandorings on love and loss and betrayal. and how many really hold on to the thought that you are but lucky to know but one second of love than to have never been engulfed in its searing flames? why write anything, if you cannot believe for one instant that it might actually be true or perhaps a simple reflection of something lost but dear, a hope upon false hope because without hope what does humanity even have to hold on to. it is the purest of emotions which drive humantiy forward…let’s ask bush….he knows. but really those emotions that have brought civilizations to their quick and savage demise, love, hate, anger and rage, they infest, control, taint the body with the mind and heart and logic flies right out the door. faith, hope, and pride each one trapped somewhere swiftly and tightly held in check by a force of deadly sin. betrayal, deceit, agony….all emotions that rationality cannot even begin to fathom. though true on some level and degree i would not truly know the devestating effects enforced by such vehemence that it wills a world all its own. only in our most illicit dreams of a surreal nothingness have we ever caused empires to crumble under our feet, or whole societies to exterminate another….we by all means are feeble in these attempts.

reality no longer holds on to the dreams of a spartan empire of war and gods and chariots. our realities come undone with the passing of time until our thoughts and ways are nothing more than dust. but we still hold on to the naturalistic views of the past – happiness is our greatest acheivement, our greatest need to withstand the ages of time….when really it should somehow come to terms that how can you turn your back on a friend’s world simply because you cannot be happy all of the time? kind of selfish, degrading, and conceited i would think…our lives are entangled, and the ripple effect can still shake your foundations to the ground, then where will you be when the happiness creeps out and sadness strolls in?

the greatest enemy we have is ourselves 
does it even matter anymore?

this is the end, my only friend, the end
it hurts to set you free
but you’ll never follow me
the end of laughter and soft lies
the end of nights we tried to die
this is the end