30 second rant
I drink from the milk of my ancestors,
More, I want more,
I pull them into myself, make them into more, but soon,
too soon,
they fade away.
These are their eyes, their lips, their nose, but who has mine?
Comparisons made irrationally, assumptions of absurdities we tell our children, the truth;
what now is truth, but words arranged in a certain manner, words that only have meaning when intention is behind them. How does one lie if they don’t mean the words they are saying? Intention is the glue that holds words and sentences together, but knowledge of intention comes from trust, but how can one trust another that is capable of misconstruing every word they say in order to deliver an absurd message, not necessarily a lie, least not in accordance with the actual meaning of lie?
Trust.
Trust.
trust.
