Page 65

the Absurd Paragraph of Doubt

Stuck in heaven, where the days flow softly. So far from your California where anyone could see the idiocy of your beloved society. I am insane. You follow the deranged just to feel contained. Trapped by your need for belonging and companionship. A jail cell with no bars you remain convinced that you do not desire to leave. Too many answers to not enough questions. Tell me where you learnt that then maybe I’ll accept it. I’ve been to hell and I’ve been to heaven. Everything I own are just things which I have taken. Trapped again we’re lacking inspiration, void of imagination. Change the world! Or die in maniacal efforts. Is there any point in living without a quest for greatness?