Empty Bottles and Cigarette-butts

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You ever zoom-out for a sec, register all those little details that pollute our incessant minds, your inane personal history and personality and realize that none of it REALLY matters in the scheme of things? THIS is why there has been a pursuit of meaning among the bored and disillusioned for thousands of years - because there clearly ISN'T any, at least of a sort that makes sense to the wormish human race. There's both a weird relief in this realization and a damp disappointment, like a fire-cracker that was supposed to light-up and dazzle but just fizzes out and dies instead. Many believe Life's an 'organism' of some kind - maybe... a neurotic mentally-retarded voyeur that never shuts the fuck up and dies... And yet they continually insist that they are 'special 'r 'divine in origin. Still afraid of the empty darkness.... —I don't mind and I don't care either...

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