macbeth (regarding banquo):
     present him eminence, both with eye and tongue:
unsafe the while, that we must have our honours
in these flattering streams,
    and make our vizards to our hearts,
            distinguishing what they are.
                                               (act ιιι. scene ιι.)

there is no point citing shakespeare,
with the idea "trying" to compete -
      it never was the idea, and never will become
one of a worthy fixation -
but this alone is not the sole thing to be said -

but to turn the heart into stone -
    not out of cruelty, but of the chinese proverb
sway:
          siao(h) s(h)in* -
  what evil in that said? this dwarf of a
first major fleeting?
                                    to no greater good?
i tire of the individual basis for something
being cherished,
              for something to be: over-come...
there is too much co-dependency for
  an "individual" to muster an argument for -
unless he adorn both crown & throne,
   or a sceptre & an orb -
                 no man guarded with symbols
of authority lays claim to distinction
worthy of the struggle, is worthy of both
the struggle & subsequent authority -
       and at the same time: an "individualism"...
the third party:
   in vitro, in vivo... &?      in individu -
man cannot come to the solution of retracting
any division within himself:
as heidegger stated: man is born of many
men, but only dies as a singluar...
        no one is reading books?! no one is being
"inspired"? how can this in individu come
about, if only as life's summary, namely death?
therefore i tire of the idea to strive for
this concept...
                       it not so much bores me,
but i've become lethargic of it...
          it's seems nonsensical at times -
   giving its limitations and blatant accents
of the "original" "sin" - which is so un-original
that it's just, basically... plagiarism...
   that's how original the "sin" is...
                             the most unoriginal observation
in existence...
                  adam imitated eve by biting
the apple, eve imitated adam by covering her
genitals...
                      about as original as a toothpick
competing to be an A4 sized piece of paper...
now that's a metaphor... **** knows whether
it's even possible;
          but does not the heart sometimes abide
by the tetragrammaton in china,
namely siao(h) s(h)in, make your heart small?
  who is eager for the heart of grand
vanity projects, like the vanity project
of the crucified heart?
   who isn't tiresome and irksome of this vanity
project, this foundation stone for idols?
i tire of it almost immediately...
    christianity has lost its reflective capacity,
people of the said creed have turned to it with
a working of a reflexive capacity...
       no one can truly say they can reflect upon
their "origins"...
    they just react to it within a reflex
impetus toward the "cruelty" of criticism -
    and that has become as tiresome as actually
adhering to the creed, and the religious gesticulation
once a week...
            the anti-christian movement,
is like a wheelchair bound *******, trying to compete
with the man walking up a hill to
a holy sanctuary on his knees on hard and sharp
stones: on his knees...
    it's double the effort, and double the unforgiving
sacrifice...
   unforgiving? 'cos'! there! ain't! any! you dumb
schmuck!
   whenever i see armchairs in american
churches,
   i start thinking... maybe the idea is to perch
yourself on a windowsill, with one foot dangling
and the other acting as a cushion,
having a cigarette, having a dark *** ms. pepsi
and chancing upon the ability to
craft hardened skin on your ankle...
oh i remember the first time i started playing
guitar...
             tender finger-tips...
  played it long enough until ther hardened
and became numbed...
   just like the skin on the ankle of my right foot
from my "meditating" position of being
perched on the windowsill, blowing cigarette
smoke out the window.

let the heart go, forget it was ever a mirror,
whether mind, face or heart morphed into
mirrors, all will deceive...
    take to the heart as it be anchor, or stone -
and let this ship of flattery within its sails,
   and finickiness within its timber frame -
   be dragged below the aquatic horizon -
down into the depths: as made rest upon the sea bed...
care not for either pride & prejudice:
or pomp & circumstance...
    let go...
                  you never know:
                 perhaps a phoenix might be born;
leave what already lies in a grave,
   the chance to lie undisturbed -
      take your masks that are presented before
your hearts and make them glass -
ask not the heart for more than
the gravity of a stone -
            make it no pompous spectacle object
that might tell you truth from lie -
leave the heart to carry the burden of
anchor, of stone...
                simply turn your masks of mirror
into the unearthing of time, bound to
                                        a frame of glass.