Sitting idly in the cradle of brimstone fires and mushroom cloud philosophies, I wonder, what could really be the purpose of this sickly green herb that inflames and tames. Flung across several galaxies via THC, the only divinity I seek gets wrapped in sleek packaging in the pursuit of inhaling ease. See, humor is a tumor, and comedy is a disease that I hoped to excise with a scalpel in self-inflicted surgery, the result being a twisted, hemorrhaged frontal cortex and a chuckle for the breeze that cracks through my teeth, setting my brow tersely.
At times all we wish to do is bellow earnest apologies from church pews and cling to Christ's feet as he ascends to totality, waking up to find that the grime still lounges lazily and the haze you thought you'd be escaping is only increasing in the taking. Though stricken with the curse of Cain and the venom of forced rhyming schemes, religion continues to creep inside my dreams, reflected in my subconscious projections, the hypnagogic imagery of Buddha, Krishna, and Sumerian deities.
Spidery tendrils of smoke wrapped around the idols I worship. Toes kneaded in prayer, rocking back and forth, sweat cascading down my nose and a neck chaffed by clanging jewels. Like pearls before swine, I reject the commonplace happiness set forth by providence and seek evidence of a higher form of existence to no avail. A confusing time for puzzled men, when the amount of technology in our possession almost makes the search for truth appear to be a shadowy punchline, the joke being that God really has been dead, and the man with the mustache exorcised his grace neatly.
I was once convinced in archaic beliefs. It was a burden of the mind, so I struck them down with the stroke of a pen, and after hours of intense soul-searching emerged from my gilded perch anew, the product of 21st century Atheism, hopeless and derided by everything yet now knowing truly nothing. False knowledge reeks of ignorance, yet ignorance at times reminds of humility, while the only quality I harbor is superciliousness, ah yes, ignorance truly is bliss.
No qualities in a man can be accurately displayed over a web-page and given to the public in bite-sized quantities for simple mental transitioning. In a room, quietly and without practiced ease, he leans over the painting of some shoddy horse and wipes dust till the end of his days. A rather lovely thing at once becomes a sickening sight, as brain and carefree, fey personalities drip over chairs-of-twine and time clicks forward unceasingly.
Yet those who would claim that an herb can annihilate entire cultures still sip heartily on the rotted fruits of their ancestors. Keep preventing wisdom from washing on your shores and the only result will be an early grave bedded by forgotten memories and the bitter tears of a breathalyzer. Wisdom is the conjugate of prayer, whether it be in meditation, on the bottom of an ashen bowl, or in supplication to some higher being. There is no wisdom in restraint unless said restraint is in the pursuit of said higher being. Austerity for austerity's sake can only end in mounds of hair pulled and an explosion of animal ferocity the likes of which humankind only witnesses in century-spanning intervals.
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