In what corner of our souls rests that savage part of man willing to breakdown the outside world on selfish command? What great honor should we extend to this beast? A kingdom, a gauntlet, a title, a feast? I know not what possesses me in the midst of drunken haze, but I have discovered a crack in the cloister, here in the heart of darkness. Peering through the crack, at once I realized the path which brought me here was of my own creation. The serpentine way it had twisted and tangled life and bound me in this maze. Surrounded on the outside by infinite cadavers, trapped in a gordian knot of my own rotten mind. In dim memory an image of colorful pastures, and a young boy staring hard at the cracks in the ground.
Last night I was a accused of stealing a bottle of beer from my good buddy in the cities. I had thought it was cool, or ok or something, I don't know, we were all pretty hammered. I had brought the wine, my other friend brought a couple beers, I also brought tea for my friend as a gift. So I had thought grabbing another beer was socially acceptable. But he accused me in front of his whole building, and they started talking shit to me which was horribly embarrassing, so I smashed it against the ground out front and left, at which point I was informed by my other friend that when I had gone looking for my backpack I had stumbled into the wrong apartment and stolen the beer from somebody elses fridge. Then when I tried to call he kept accusing me of stealing it, and passed the phone off to his little granola bitch friends who ragged on me for a good half hour or so. I suppose I deserved it, so to that kid I apologize, but I didn't steal your fucking beer. In no way shape or form.