It is easier to walk across the water than it is to withstand the burning at a stake. But this is mock religion an insensitive of an irrelevant imposition. I wonder do you know, the sounds we make with disappointing. Do we make the crashing cymbals clash when we throw it all out into the trash? I have a predisposition to laugh at the sentimental ways we let all fall out to be displayed. Isn't this a  monumental determination?. Like the stumbled apprehension of some piano wired lack of tension twanged, snapped. An that is that, . Did I mention this is silly, it makes me giggle, I guffaw, after I moan, I moan bemoaning so forlorn. Then I cry, an then a titter begins it's welling up within an with a wry straight jacketed grin some jester pinned inside the soul opens it's mouth, an I still don't get the joke, but I laugh. I laugh it all a heightened height of hilarity, An then realization brake lights come on again, I silent go a little while, I pop my knuckles as I remain self conscious quite, forget myself an laugh again. Then I live, an then i die. The end.
© Eschew Obfuscation