I watch the ripples change their size
But never leave the stream
Of warm impermanence
And so the days float through my eyes
But still the days seem the same
And these children that you spit on
As they try to change their worlds
Are immune to your consultations
They're quite aware of what they're goin' through

Monday, April 23, 2007

IPSTPD Story Bone 5

Hell wasn't so bad. A little hot, but not much humidity, lots of space, interesting geological formations, spelunking, all that. And then all these damn souls start showing up, tramping all over the carpeting and tracking dirt on the natural stone floors, moaning about this or that, wanting to punish themselves. Like, what am I? A sadomasochist or something?

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