Heaven is real in the minds of those believe.  Any notion of God or a god or gods is real. I am my own god. I control now and the hereafter. This mind of mine, slow as it may be, holds worlds both terrifying and radiant, sorrowful and joyous.  Gracious is the operator who stays true to his path, navigating his being between the infinite universes a life tumbles amidst.

The world needs me as badly as I need it and I am sure we’d be fine without one another. I chew my fingernails to remind me that I’m constantly growing and it is my human instinct to gnaw off the new part of me.  I don’t give two fucks about it all. I sit here at my little table with my little cigarette as these little thoughts about the wonderment of love and the sewers of politics. The bills get paid and there is always a bottle at hand. The outside world is as real as Russia, I hear whispers of it but it remains unseen.