Comedy Of Manipulation

tempeted just to walk out the door and keep walking 'til i get to the highlands. along the way greeting the lonley and desperate with a traveler's perspective. i've seen the great lights of the city, i've smelt the trash and balanced on street curbs. everybody thinks they're connected in their isolated minds. only a few intellectuals around, understanding the obscene comedy of manipulation. yes, it makes you wanna walk. walk to the corner store in a small town. it's insignificance to the connected pleasant and unguarding. the intense worlds that walk through the store, gathering lighters, and pens, and floss, and macaroni, and a paint chipper. eggs and tire chains out of stock. thought the cashier was gonna quit, but she walked out front and took a smoke. came back in a state of euphoria, laughing at the jokes of toothless men and giving eyes to the young and raging. walked to the next town and same damn thing. there is no such thing as boring. you may be bored due to lack of initiative or an idle brain. creation is our purpose. we were created to create. then we die. thought about this and boarded the bus back home. found a melody to hum and looked at the path walked in reverse and at a much faster pace. all the truth lost in speed. keep the microscopic caverns of your mind alive. creation, to be continued...