Postal

For appearance sake, if it looks good it must be right? I mean that is what we think looking at the suburb structures all aligned. Structures all aligned. We continue, and we die. The next generation does the same thing, and it's passed on. Blind mediocracy

we never have to really fight for identities because we have allowed other people to make them.

We do not usually realize this until of course it is a challenged.

Then the storm comes from the belly of the earth, friction, and sometimes the world crisis. It depends on our own identities. Individual identity shouldn't have a jurisdiction but somehow it does. Could it be the postal code and social security number is that our identity? Our lives my whole life I was being "boxed in" for a political mark. One that goes in the ground. I never thought being the age that I am that I would be listening to jurisdictional banters of hell on earth. It's quite frustrating.

I often have to pinch myself in my brain to know, what is happening is true. That nothing that can happen in the present or the future can change that. This is as real as it can get. It is amusing to me that I use the word jurisdiction in a lawless world. A world that knows little justice and seeks its own demise. I am in the same country that once tried to teach me many things, by the grace of God I have unlearned most of them. For a time, such as this. I have a name, and it is not a number. I have a family and it be known I have my own beliefs.

My own look, my own thoughts, my own rhythms, my own desires. Everything about me knows who I am through to the soul and heart. There is no question? But there is always room for more. It is sealed solid like a rock. I am in these moments in a notebook. In a city in a place sitting writing. I am living in a world that has been changed forever.

I am in a world where every other form of humanity attempts to lie to me, about me. It is the strangest of lies. It is the presumption that another knows you or takes illegal possession of something that does not belong to them. I pinch my brain at this condition wondering how another's humanity allows them to slip in the lie. The privileged conversation.

I remember the words like a crossword puzzle and even than it was strange.

Jesus Christ Forevermore

A woman whose song has broke through the night