Last Night

The world is in a projection screen through our wanting eyes, it shows all we choose to believe within these aching minds. All the truth and all the lies and all the products of our times are all the creations and subsequent destractions calculated to our own designs. We have chosen to be here playing in this disjointed rhyme, on this whinding road following these beconing signs. Within ourselves in this terror we may yet find a comprimise. By Mark Shackleton