I'll be gone. One fine day. Swoosh. Mysteriously vanish like a dying bird. Into the blind spots of the more complicated than the invisible - the visible world. But when? God take me away. For I'm wearied. Torn. Tattered. Utterly destroyed in the dynamics of modern mechanics. The depths swollow me. And the shallowed lot keeps shouting in through the dark hollow of my well. Modernity demands a healthy diet of the Orient - The mystery machine. Men accomplish things faster than the speed of light. And woman cast orgasmic spells in mushroom proportions. And the humans die like cattle on the arid of the arroyo. I'm there too. Living on the parallel universe of the choices i chose not to choose. 'Bourgeois', exclaims God having just woken up after dehydrating on acid for three long days. Cough~
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