Mostly

What kind of new year.

With much to explore

The bells ringing

Yet nobody hears a thing

These are past Christmas Bells

To remember times of laughter

Our lives not lost in chatter chatter

A better world now

Spin the wheel

The fire wheels

Joy for the world

Rejoice.

The sense

Of a great a city

Breaks in my mind

As wishful thinking

People caught in a web

A death march of today

Playing graveyard songs

Play

Play me a love song

The idea of a heart

In a nice place

Impossible thoughts for raising dead

For forgoten places

Flooded

It seems the dream is gone

The band plays along

Rachmaninoff for nothing

Dust falls on high tower

You hear the bells

Attached to breasts nipples

Holy holy

A possibility

So Smarco what do you think fiction is about..

I know I will be doing a lot more writing, so writing should feel a bit endless. Even now I doubt anyone could read everything I have written. I bet you would eventually give up. I am not sure you could deal with how many facets my work has and the ambiguity and word play. Nah, too odd and uncommon at thousands of pages. Trust me your head might feel like it went through a blender.

I see no good in attempting to sleep walk through life.

For me actual love is a mystery.

Something like a quasar or black hole.

What does it mean if I say the earth is composed of earth,

And that on earth are humans that have a strange liking for extremely cute puppies and mint chip ice cream.

Caring about people gets more challenging as I get older,

And discover the takers, and ill mannered, then I meet a real nice puppy. I say we let the puppies inherit the earth.

I think we need more crazy random cow sex on the internet,

Also more butterfly genitalia and more piles of random food to gaze into.

Curious.

Reality in my mind has two thoughts. It is here and it is not here. So how can something be here and not here at the same time? That is not a sane question so I don't have an answer. You can say the universe was not designed in a way that is sane to human beings. That does not mean the universe is insane. It does mean that our intelligence does not apply to everything about it. All I know about this is that the mystery creates a complexity which can only be grasped intuitively. I see as I see with my eyes though, and my sense of the mystery may be a bit different than yours as true with everyone. If you are lucky perhaps you have no sense of mystery around you, maybe.