The tank is emptied. The tang in my armitage shanks is anything but a friendly welcome. My toilet talk should come with a No Entry sign. But despite that, I still turn this piss water into wine. Misnomers and rhymes, crying about missed moments, and dying. From the start, didn't mean to be this open, or mean, emotionally, but I'm only writing from the heart. Only hiding from the harsh cold world, before my departure. A martyr trying to stop a demarcation between our nations. It seems our patience is being tested. But who am I to talk? As one eye is woke, and the other is blind under its broken light. I don't know if I've woken right. I still may be broken and only operating at half sight. But this is only half-time of my spiritual half-life. Still a way to go to cleanse the soul... hence all the offensive hyperbole. As I sit and have another Heineken, it's that time again to sit up and write again, with spite and venom. And ruin you like Sprite and 7up. "Yup! They taste shite!" They say from almighty heaven, the lightning struck, during the fighting, fuck! It's frightening, look! Supercells are spiralling! This is like something out of a nightmarish book! The very heights of garish when no one is spared this fate. No words can share this pain. The worst is yet to come, in bursts of ejected sun. Who cares about an election? Those people need to be sectioned. Segregated and shunned, punched in the guts, stunned, and humped by three wild hogs. I told you I'd turn piss water into swine. Maybe I've smoked too much Proto-Indo-European endo. Pro rata. No to mata. My jokey jargon hard to bargain with, or grant a pardon to. It's pure fire, like some arson shit. But enough of this HAARPing on, it's time to get the party started, dawg... with some certified arsy-versy in the face of hearty laughter. I am a sarky bastard. Ha ha. The mirth. For what it's worth I feel sad as fuck, ever since my Dad left this Earth. Couldn't understand it. Maybe it's a trauma that hasn't had its proper closure. Right now I feel like I need a four-leaf clover, or a stellar supernova. But who knows, eh? Got to keep an open mind... and work the overtime to help the folk who are blind to all these gopher's lies. Spit out your contempt. "But that's blasphlegmy!" They're just words my man. You're safe. It's this knife you have to worry about!! Sorry, I got sidetracked for a minute. Time to get my life back, and put this knife away. I haven't got time to waste. This is a fight I can win. It wouldn't be right if I whinged. No need to pull on the strings of violins. Ready to think things through, without the drink doing it for you, and making you rue it the next morning. But a downer is the best warning. We all lead different lives and go through difficult mindsets. And I'm just tryna work out where mine's set, as we don't get that much time. Yet it's enough to step on mines. You only need to look around to ask what is this all about? You die and then your soul gets out? To wander lonely. As a clown. Forever floating, human scoping throughout this Truman Show.