Birds Of The Past (Part I & II)

(Part I) Incense is burning, reflections in a mirror of a candle. The world is turning, and I grip tightly to the handle. I muse at the dust crumbling, the scent reminds me of something...good. I can only hear mumbling, something so great it would...be.

(Part II) The dry poisonous smell of insence. (fireless) Quietly the bluebirds (or maybe sparrows) sing their idiotic tunes. Inside myself I feel full of precious life. Like I have everything i ever wanted and more. Occasionally i get these...feelings of ego. The music is loud, but the words spoken are distant. The newspapers read of murders and suicides. I turn to the funnies and muse to myself of birds. Those birds do as they want to and are free of politics and bureaucratic bullshit. Yet we are forced to put up with it or we are punished. Somehow it isn't fair. (But life isn't fair?) Don't believe any of this crap that's being shoveled out. Ignore it. Scream "fuck", have a smoke and forget it. Laugh and squint. Close your eyes to the world and what society makes you. Be your own you and screw all the rest. Who needs it really? Be enraged. Be happy, be horny...stare at your neighbor. Just go out and be!