Seldom do people stop to think.
When is the future when tomorrow becomes today so quickly?
How can anyone live for the elusive and unstable present?
When is the present?
Hamsters in a wheel running endlessly around
Few stop to think and those who do are crushed.
The trampling feat of endless masses skittering forever forward.
Live in the along and yearn not for the destination.
The along is too long and the destination nonexistant.
Where is a fair medium when there is no beginning or end?
Insecurities forever piling higher with nothing to do but complain.
Nothing to do but ramble endlessly and uncertainly.
Curiosity is meaningless.
Stupidity killed the cat.
The cat was trampled by the hamster masses.
Hampton the hamster lives in Hamsterdam.
Hamsterdam is a happy place.
Happiness is an illusion.
Illusions are matters of perspective.
The Fly doesn't believe in perspective.
The Fly knows all for he is the Child of Yestermorrow.
Yestermorrow is the aunt of Creation.
Creation is the child of Twee the Great Tree.
Twee is also parent of "Mother" Earth and "Father" Time.
Time insists that he does not tick anywhere. He slips away.
Time laughs as we all slip deeper into confusion.
Confusion is lover of Delerium.
Delerium loves Insanity and wishes to become such.
The color of nothing is quite becoming on some and none.
Nothing is not a color.
Nothing is the son of Yestermorrow.
The Fly envies Nothing for having no worries and no knowledge.
Nothing does not envy.
Father Time sits back and puffs smoke rings comfortably as Confusion runs amuck.
Yestermorrow chuckles, for she sees all in only a positive light.
She knows that she cannot benefit from sorrow like so many of her grandchildren.
Tbe Fly hates Yestermorrow for her infinite good humor.
Humor hates The Fly for his general pissiness.
I hate it when I run out of ways to connect things.
There were never any good ways of connecting things to begin with.
Some things were meant to be kept apart.
Some things weren't meant to be anything.
Some thing weren't meant to be.