in sanity

What does it mean to be sane, and how does one get in it?

If sanity is knowing and living in awareness of the truth, is anyone?


paint paint paint paint paint paint paint pain paint paint paint paint paint.

I have holes in my heels and hell is a hole in your socks. I feel as though I deserve to be neglected, rejected and beaten for an hour with hard, uncomfortable pillows - or realities. Why? For wasting air. Wasting air is a killing offense - they kill you for it. And you know what - everybody waste's air, so they kill us all. Every last man jack of us.

You think that bit gave you a peice of me? Maybe.

The truth is, I will not let you all see all in. My eye's aren't windows to my soul - they're torpedo tubes to blast holes in other people's intentions. Not to see truth - oh no - truth is invisible before the rods and cones that groan within my sockets to be plugged into the real.

Do you hear me? This is my fear and I know you feel it too. That I will fall like a stone from a ledge, hit dust and poof! be forgotten. Insanity is a retreat, a way to say I won't go because I don't know if I can trust my reason or my feelings or anything else.

These three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.