I don't know much; I'm an unwise animal influenced by an array of emotions. Bound to this body, I am indeed small, notably when compared to the giants above. I often err, usually in the worst of times, and those moments will replay throughout my mind; mostly when I'm trying to sleep.
I'm a dreamer, a loner - so misfitted I don't fit in with the misfits. I have my addictions, my drugs which I turn to for a sense of liberation so that I can escape this reality; though they're just another cage, another cell for me to beat my hands against like this monkey mind of mine.
Aside from the fact I'm dying, there's not much going on in my life, which is lovely. People get around like they're immortal, swelling their days with drama and tasks that suffocate the moment, missing out on what's real, forgetting they'll soon perish like the billions before. All the while poetry and god live not only within, but right beside us through simplicity, offering fulfilment that no one accepts for it is at the expense of ego, of having to surrender yourself to total awareness which is painful.
I don't know where I'm heading, and I'm unsure exactly where I'll end up, but I'll meet you there.