you become your own personal "Madagascar event" you start to evolve as you devolve into ragged old blood and weary bones too decrepit and idle to move... you become fearful of anyone Youthful and full of vigour as they pose a threat to your existence, just one punch to the Head and I be good as dead... after a bad brain bleed in 1986, after being kicked in the temple... which left me cross eyed for a few years...
I should have died but the Devil kept me alive to work for him undercover of shade and darkness... lol... but/yet in old age you have an internal Projector that randomly displays bad moments from a long life of momentary fuck-ups and errors of judgement, it is like sitting in a hairdressers awaiting your turn and reading or Flicking through your own life in pictures, happy and horrendous...
The Magazine is called "Life" how ironic, when you hardly even had one to start with... you look at pictures of impossible people enjoying luxury's without limit... and what you Got ?... the sin of ENVY... that Magazine Mentality, that you always fall very short of perfection... all those silly girls who starve themselves with anorexia... i.e. suicidal vanity and conceit:
Dying in a council flat on the 14th floor of a hi-rise on £128.42p a week aint life a big fat sack of agony mixed with disappointment and mostly delirium, from trying to escape this living hell for peace in a dirty bed in a squat on the edge of a no hope town... that was dying before you were born... join the Caravanserai of street sleepers, when all you want to do is lose your mind and get high all day and all night...
whats the point in saving the world when everybody just wants to overdose or kill a total stranger... for no good reason or advantage...
War is a Whore... she sleeps with any Victor...
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