Greetings and salutations
It’s come to my attention that the naysayers, doubters, haters, pouters, curmudgeons, saints, dudgeons, taints, felines, equines, troglodytes, aspenites, nomads, gonads, maggots and tripe are whispering sweet nothings in the ears of hype. Concerned and perturbed by the hackings of late, these folks are pondering the reasons and fate. What has become of the friend we once knew? Where has he gone and what can we do? Is there a virus coursing through his veins? Is a robot eating his face causing such pain? Is it the compounding interest of injury come due? Or perhaps the remnants of some witches brew? Have the doldrums conquered the seas of fleece? Have the dogs of war unleashed their fleas? Has madness invaded the once insane mind? Have hobbits fed him second breakfast one too many times? Might the bosstones have slipped him a magic riff? Has he finally flung himself off the last cliff?
Rest assured my fine feathered friends, this maggot knows he will not repent. The twists and turns, the bobs and weaves, the neighbors you had over for dog’s breath tea. All conspire, coerce and create the blinding light known as fate. When it chooses to shine one can’t debate. This eruption has been no haughty whim, no stunt to spurn my brothers and kin. What’s transpired here is a beginning and end, all at once and then again. Struggling with choices complex and neat, rethinking the past and correcting the bleak. Here in real time before your eyes, the stifled rants of muffled lies are freed from cages and released to roam, finding their paths like that damn garden gnome. Splattered across the screens of drive-ins long since sold, awakening the judgments of jongs and the old. Corrections at times must be made, without them reality begins to fade. An altering of course to write the ship, there are times when it takes a long overdue trip.
Consider this an apology of sorts if you will, for the collateral damage caused climbing this hill. A torturous ascent with many a fall, the gimp is still on crutches after all. Realizations, condemnations, aspirations and hope, combine and tied into the gallows rope. Thar be pirates and ninjas and those you can trust, but what to do with the ones that prove bust? Hang on to memories, delusions and pain, or drop the baggage and risk being labeled insane? Dies are cast and bridges burned, the plot has thickened, all the while being stirred. Does anyone have the answers to give, or are we all just searching trying to live? Do dreams and nightmares differ that much? Is honesty a policy that works in the clutch? I don’t know, probably never will, but it sure beats swallowing another bitter little pill.
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