Thoughts and Stuff

Vanity. An insidious thief of humility.

I'd love to break your heart into little pieces. There's no honour amongst the lost souls.

On Religion: It is the bastard child of Spirituality & Faith. The unchecked paraphrasing of what it means to be moral. A necessary cancer. On Mortality: When the strings of life have lost their vigor and flesh & bone begin to wither, like rundown clocks we simply stop working. On Love: If clocks aren't bought with nickels or dimes, it takes courage to have faith a faulty clock will have you on time. On Youth: Selfish, Fearless - Careless, in all fairness. Because for now unimportance matters & what really matters is unimportant.

Whatever you do, just don’t get old - your children will forget you, but if you’re lucky, you will forget yourself, too.

I endeavoured to befriend animals and even then, with the encumbrance of language, I came to a better understanding with the beasts than I’d managed with man.

I keep a broken stool under my flimsy hammock. We struck a deal, it and I, that the day my dreams let me fall, I'll perch above ground yet.

I asked Nkuku what she lives for. She said since Ntatemogolo passed, she awakens only to watch the clock slow as her senses leave her alone, in peace.

Before the Moon, I stood the bearer of doleful news. I told her how the Sun had broken his word; that from here on, faith would part the darkness.

My mind is never still; even in my sleep it is moving, feeling, pondering incessantly. Only the momentary stillness of a sneeze has afforded me respite. And even then, in that fleeting quiet in the eye of the storm, I’m woefully aware the turmoil has yet to make another pass.

Why do you hate everything? You hate everything because you still hate yourself.