Stream of thought on a Wednesday

Well...you’re alive in my memories and my prayers boy. ✌️ for now until ....

Our ephemeral is existence is a cosmic joke worth laughing at. It’s the tragedy that draws one from the sidelines to the field to play. To get muddy. To break bones. To live to feel that real eyes realize real lies. It’s the genius that convinces the unconvinced. The ephemeral genius, who shows only when we need him but abandons us by daylight when questions are piled so tall like a stack of blank papers amounting to little at all save for the last page, upon which one sentence is scribed wherein it described the point of the pain, so he figured he’d stick around instead of fold under the pressure.