Even More Stream-of-Consciousness

I walk in on Michael Moore and Ayn Rand having hate sex in my living room I yell at them both call them hypocrites and as I storm off they laugh at me and continue I'm just angry angry at an imperfect world full of imperfect people no heroes and there never were only illusions the ghost of the ideal is supposed to be something to strive for but I've stopped trying to become something impossible concrete cinder blocks of reality sit and stare at me mocking me with the fact they can exist as much as exotic flowers in fact more so since exotic flowers don't grow around here

I haven't been truly terrified of anything in a really long time and I think that's a bad thing not that I want to be afraid all the time but I think a little fear can be healthy even motivational but I look upon this unforgiving wasteland full of bandits and pirates and can only find humor in their delusions of what to value perhaps it's arrogance and I'm about to get a knife in my belly for my own delusions of invincibility whatever works whatever works the goal is undeniable truth and if it takes a splash of blood on the pavement then that's a whole lot better than walking as a mist with no blood or bones or flesh at all cancel the appointment for later the urgency of the present moment insists that I sit down and watch the sunlight fracture amongst the tree leaves and suddenly I don't care if you're daughter is having problems with her new boyfriend or if the customer requires the product by next thursday I'm just slowly fading into the background I'll be happier there and you can take the stage all to yourself sing your guts out I hope you achieve everything you ever wanted so you can learn that you never wanted the right things in first place good luck to you and I wish you all the joy and happiness in the world and I never want to see you again

peace brother calm yourself the midnight wolf is at hand time to run time to hunt time to feast and the trees are a million different shades of black I see the full moon above me and I stop to howl a cry full of sorrow and of love and of life you just can't get a howl like that in the city brown smoke gritty and acrid fills my nostrils and I cough up a civilization on the brink of self-destruction and I see a billion people about to commit suicide and I'm thinking that I couldn't stop it even if I wanted to today children dress as skeletons and pretend to worship the dead and I'm thinking that that's their whole lives already written and they don't even know it I learn all the things that most other people deliberately avoid and I'm thinking I'm the smarter just because I'm different I'm an asshole I can admit it but I can sit in silence in front of a glacier on a frozen winter night or a deep canyon in a scorching hot desert noon and most other people need to ruin the moment with chit-chat so I guess I'm not alone on that one