sometimes words trickle through my mind and, a willing slave to my subconscious, I line them up and write them down.

I like to sit in a room made of my thoughts and ponder the questions that echo back and forth, that bounce off the walls of my brain. I drown myself in the dreamland in my head and choke on the heavy ideas that linger there.  I engulf myself with wonder and awe, tease myself with curiosity. I aspire, I desire, I hunt down knowledge like a starving wolf and revel in the both the chase and the satisfaction of a kill. And the more I know, the more I need; I crave it with a passion, yearn for that fire in my veins. There is no stopping, I am past the point of no return - this addiction is for life. I picture realities beyond our own, I will fix the world. A picture is worth a thousand words, but the painter of this portrait will never stop moving his brush. We live in a Never Ending Story but we can edit the plot as we go along. To control the past is to control the future; but we have no control of either. We are blind mice and no one knows which is a trap and where is the safe food. All we can do is guess and as we guess our way blindly we realize how little we truly know. There is a constant conflict inside my mind as I lust for untold stories, and yet must accept humbly that I can only ever understand such a small amount of that is happening around me. No one knows everything, except maybe the Gods, and even they are debatable.