The Times That Come So Hard

There are pictographs...everywhere, in  everything. The street signs, the labels in clothing, the posthumous happenstances between man and woman meeting for the millionth time on the street in constant orbit. Think about it, yourself. See if there a few that you watch everyday but let escape you. Now look at the artwork, after staring at them for more than the time you know you can't afford to take. Is there a mural or tapestry that forms in your mind?

And of course, all these are subject to interpretation. Like historic masonry that stands in modern times, they teach us to think freely. Its like.... As if we can afford not to. As if the simple poet in all of us begs us to feed it and let it grow. Loving the simple things, staring at them like paupers in spirit. Maybe with a childish thought that if we paid enough attention to them, they would pay our bills and allow us that physical freedom. Maybe the energy donated brings them to life and gives birth to a longing in them to experience the honor of finally being seen and loved after remaining in the same spot for all our lives, going without such. And that starting an addictive chemistry in their 'fantasaical' minds that causes them to see to making remedy all that keeps us from them so our time and energy continues to be donated, feeding their newly born addiction. What evil and narcisistic stuff, that any human would knowingly or not spread the virus of our eternal sickness of want, addictive want. Sometimes like these, I realize what a low thing it can be to be a man with my abilities, just pitiful. Luckily its only a fiction. One that can never be excercised outside of Alice's rabbit hole. Not that any simple things there are still innocent. And its also lucky that I am fiction as well. Given enough time, no one will ever know I existed. And so, we must bury deep our persistently logical minds of do's and dont's, separative mindsets and stupid knowledge. Deep, deep into the simple things. So what grows toward the new sun after the time has passed and we are gone tastes like- legend. But only to the explorer of our future world, and the children whom still realize that simple sugars..? Taste good.