noonesenses

how is this life anything but absurd? 

it has to be, as we are hurtling towards the death of death itself. and birth is only a confession of our demise. 
all that's left to do is to gawk at the utter grotesque; the glass in each room

the politician is the finest exemplar of man
the politician is the finest exemplar of man
the word of god, the word of the child, the words of the beasts in the fields. 
each man and each woman lays down their head upon the stars each dream, no consolation can be found

it's a terrible, beautiful death.