To me, there is no Heaven, just as there is no Hell.
They are like the hood that covers the head of the condemned.
Immersing the mind in illusion and myth and
blinding them from what is already so perfect.
I need no reason for my being, no explanation is required.
I exist as a result of chance and I am ever grateful for it.
I ask for nought but the right to enjoy it,
and if the occasion arises, to share it.
There is no better time than now, no better moment than just what is.
Why the need for anything else?
About the Creator
Kevi B
I write, therefore I drink coffee.
It's called people watching not, "he's looking at me all weird."
I think catharsis' ism should be a religious practice... and an actual word.
I meditate a lot, others call it overthinking.
I Am a Prisoner who Dreams of Prisons
The dream always starts the same: I feel the cold bite of wind gnawing through clothes entirely inadequate to protect from the weather and I realize I am standing in line. Ahead of me and behind me are other inmates, identified by the burgundy scrubs we were issued upon arrival. I don't know where we're going.
By Kyle Cejka5 days ago in Fiction
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