Ink stains my hands as I attempt to wash the evil from my soul. My coffee cup is full, the smoke rolls. I learned this morning that some people walk around puddles while I walk through them. We make what we will of the things we've seen, perceiving reality as we see fit. Society is higher than me in the eyes of vanity. Superficial sins placed upon a pedestal, resting on its laurels while time creeps in. A ripple wrinkles my train of thought, head feeling kinda light. My brain drops ideas like rain drops fall on dry ground washing away the dust of yesterday. A wolf in sheeps clothing, I speak of life in plain sight. Nobody noticing as my ideas embed slowly, flowing solely on the coattails of time.
Do you think you can know me?