There Is A Time For

Bright Colours In The West, Giant Butterflies Dancing As Night Crept Like A Cripple Toward The East.

Dreams Fade With Morning Light, Never A Morn For Thee, Dreamer Of Dreams, Goodnight.

Every Hundred Feet The World Changes

What Twisted People We Are. How Simple We Seem, Or At Least Pretend To Be In Front Of Others, And How Twisted We Are Deep Down. How Paltry We Are And How Spectacularly We Contort Ourselves Before Our Own Eyes, And The Eyes Of Others...and All For What? To Hide What? To Make People Believe What?

One Should Read Borges More.