The world over people living in squalor, poverty wealthy and rich are sad and depressed, twisted mindfully by an imaginary friend, the better or worse side of him, her or me. 

Positive thinking is fine when your positively perfect, are you perfect? In such an imperfect land, is the great house you bought or built lying on sand?. I don’t care and don’t want to know, now we’re getting to the crux of it, we reap what we sow.

Every person I meet desires what they seek, try telling that to the neighbour who is tired and meek, we sat and watched television for the entire week where did it get us? like the Tower of Babel, unable to understand when the other does speak. 

Turn on the light for the entire earth feels, the tenderness of sargasso, the loss of its eels, was it merely a breakdown in communication, I’m not listening anymore, you have all your wires crossed, I am afraid you’re a bore.

The wiring in a million houses across the earth all give light, intelligent people understand it’s the same,  work out the colours then you cannot be to blame. Go get a gun, find fortune and fame or die in a gas chamber, it is only a game. 

I’ve reached nowhere and climbed many mountains, not knowing which path to take, an intellect wasting time exasperatingly deflated by failure, fifty years in the making, would have won a prize had I not stagnated.