Echoes

I think best when I'm driving; I don't know why.

I wish the average person was a little more (smart?) compassionate.

Our thoughts reveal our bias.

One cannot truly claim to be a man unless one has

(sinned) saved another's life?


Life is conceived by a clot of filthy blood. Perhaps that is why no amount of water can cleanse a sinner's soul?

Our thoughts are easily disseminated. Perhaps that is why we are so easily marginalised?

I wish that fucking Santa Claus didn't get stuck in the chimney. Our friend Satan didn't commit the same idiotic mistake.

The echoes bounce a maddening tune of reality. Why is it that we drive on with high beams as if to say

(what was that again?)


Stupid.