Return

Smythe, the elusive comical bedraggled poor excuse of a inkslinger. He lives a sorted soiled life. An artist he truly is, his canvas is your skin. Sober? Hopefully so. Demons haunt his existence. He likes Led Zeppelin and Jack Daniels…combined. His cough is a reminder of years of inhaling. His eyes red and runny. His soul, a very old soul is vulnerable. His love was lost but his lust grows. His friends are loyal, his enemies haunt him

. His thoughts will haunt yours. I must get back to bringing him to life. Spurred on by the urge to create in one form or another. Words will be my medium for a while…maybe longer. Peace

FRAGILE

We are living in a vortex Living in a swamp of festering microbes Awaiting our demise To devour our remains Bubbling up the gasses that were our vessels To emit the odors of waste To fertilize the future of mankind To open the minds of those that follow To educate the next few To lead them to better earthly endeavours To salvage the disasters our generation create The job is thankless But life is worth it. Life is but a nanosecond in the infinity Being fragile is what all life is about.