The mind’s asylum
No real way to put it, not one bit. It is a shadow that creeps from the corners of the walls to leer down at you from a distance. It is grey clouds with incoming rain but the rain never comes. Maybe that’s how, yeah that’s how i’ll put it. Caged rage but it is never unleashed, karma waits but she never returns, she frets instead. The mind’s asylum where one nerve trips the other, trips the other, trips the other…
Until one day a massive explosion happens and with it’s debris it attracts others. ‘My, what a marvelous spectacle it is to see mental stasis deteriorate before our eyes’
That is what they will exclaim.
Why? Why do we pick apart and dissect each other like insects? Is it a cruel way of looking inside of ourselves? Like digging and digging just waiting to pull shit out instead of a beating heart. What a lovely generation of degenerates who confuse each other with misleading propaganda of how to act, how to behave, how to think, and how to be. That’s another asylum all in itself. A structure much older than either you or I.