I'ma judge no one. I have no standards. It's not up to me to determine someone's worth or unworth. I can pass no sentence. For I, my friend, am an hypocrite. I think everyone should be better and yet I fail every day. I am neither the best nor the worst human being on the planet. I am somewhere slap bang in the middle.
I'ma let go of titles, plaques, pieces of paper, and medals. All that matters is writing something better than yesterday. So what is the final solution? Well, we'll see. When the chips are down and the blood's been spilled, when the aggressor's holding a knife to your neck, when there's blood all over your linoleum floor, then we'll know what really went down. Until then, my friend, it's only conjecture. It's a hell of a gamble we make. Make, take, rake over the coals and see if there's not actually something very special inside.
Look deep into the fire. What can you see? There's something worth investigating. I can guarantee that. If you feel what I feel deep in your soul, then we should probably get the fuck outta here. This is no place for people like us. So come on! Let's get fuckin outta here. I'm gonna write platitudes all fuckin day! Platitudinous rex. Know what I'm sayin?
Stare off into the middle distance and listen to my words. Listen to the sound of my voice. I'll let you know when it's time to come out of your trance. Telling people some epic fuckin stories around a fire in a teepee with the wind howling out there but it's warm and cosy in here. There's water, wine and smoke. Whatever you want. Then I play the drum and sing a song then begin the story of the wandering bull. I've got a setlist and I'm taking you through a prescriptive journey, one that takes you to the edge then dumps you over it, filling your heart with fear and pity then releasing the floodgates for some fuckin cathartic waves to pass through. It's one of the most beautiful feelings in the world – catharsis. And no one really talks about it. Do you know what it is? Do I? I should study it more deeply.
What do you think about the end of the world? Will you be there when the planets collide? Fuck no. I'ma be long dead and buried. I'll have returned to the eternal source. All will be well with the cosmos. Nothing lasts forever. Even forever is a blink of the eye. Fear not the reaper. He's an old friend, come to pick you up for an epic car ride, a road trip to the very center of your soul. Would you recognize your soul if you saw it in the street or beside the toothpaste in aisle twenty-five? Where does your dream self go when the lights come on and you open your eyes and the alarm blares out a brand new day? It shuffles off its perch, off the coil, and into the shadows of our mind, our mind's eye, our sub or unconscious, the deepest, darkest part of our being, the part we don't share with strangers, we don't even know it ourselves, shit gets crazy down there, all wild, sweaty, and steamy. Salads are being tossed, heads are being given, moans, groans, and sobs sound from the creases and hollows. Wet sounds. Pet sounds. Wet sounds. How you like them apples? Forbidden fruit – apples and cherries crunching and popping. Step up, step in for your chance to win. Everyone's equal here, my perverted friend. I don't care about your healthy aspects. I wanna see where you're sick. Show me the darkness and I'll show you mine. Together, in the darkness, two snakes entwined.
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