Dark Thoughts and Ominous Appraisals

Dark Thoughts and Ominous Appraisals

Hope, like so much scattered rain. Not unlike the balloon that slipped away from you as a child or the kite that climbed too high to see.Though you clutched the string tightly, you never knew if the kite was still there.

Our elders are dying off, one by one and hell, they never really knew how to drive this thing. The ones who did are long past. Killed off by some magic bullet or gunned down by a born again christian obsessed with The Catcher in the Rye.

We were born from disconnection, delusions, and free sex. Examples of a form of chaos. Trembling in the wind of an oncoming storm.

The monster that was created for the sake of our forefather's comforts has grown old and senile. It froths at the mouth with dementia and aims to drag us all to our deaths. There will be no slayer of this grotesque freak. We are all victims of it's ruinous vaguery. All of us slaves to the perverse will of evil men. Circumvented by our own mental failures and cast away by our doubts.

I have seen good men try and I have seen them fail. Defeated by hindrance and spiteful jests. Struck down by their own half measures. Suffocated in this corrupt land of horrors.

We are but children crying out in the darkness. Searching the murky skies for one last glimpse of our lost balloon. Still claiming the kite soars but clutching tightly to a broken string.