I Don't Know Why I Write What

I Keep Feeling That People Are Becoming Less Human And More Animalistic. They Seem To Think Less And Feel Less So That Everyone Is Operating On A Very Primitive Level. I Wonder What You And I Will See In Our Lifetimes. It Seems So Hopeless Yet We Must Keep On Trying ... I Guess We Can't Escape Being A Product Of The Times, Can We?

Disintegration---i'm Taking It In Stride.

I Think A Lot Of Snowflakes Are Alike...and I Think A Lot Of People Are Alike Too.

I Don't Know Why I Write What I Write.

Where There Was Nature And Earth, Life And Water, I Saw A Desert Landscape That Was Unending, Resembling Some Sort Of Crater, So Devoid Of Reason And Light And Spirit That The Mind Could Not Grasp It On Any Sort Of Conscious Level And If You Came Close The Mind Would Reel Backward, Unable To Take It In. It Was A Vision So Clear And Real And Vital To Me That In Its Purity It Was Almost Abstract. This Was What I Could Understand, This Was How I Lived My Life, What I Constructed My Movement Around, How I Dealt With The Tangible.