A poem a week, or so to speak. A rhyme, a quip, a riddle. This isn't the only thing I **** at. You should see me play the fiddle.
Some folks here, will write about love. Found, lost, forgotten. Though much like the *** of a long dead chicken. Tis seem a lil bit rotten.
Nah, I'm here to speak today on behalf of the absurdist view. Now take a deep breath you rat faced *****. Your perspective is askew.
Absurdism lends itself to the idea that none of it makes sense. That everything you think you know is derived from experience.
Your senses along with your mind in tow, shape how you think and feel. Though adept as they are, there's still some gaps between what's fake and real.
Falsified memories, vibrating atoms, light behaving like matter. We collectively dance, to the sound of the wind while watching our ashes scatter.
It's absurd to insist you understand life, when you've only just arrived. Nobody can tell what it all means, when nobody has ever survived.
So doubt the nature of nurture vs genetics, and forget everything I've said. Waltz and sing with an absurdist tonight. Cause tomorrow, you could be dead.