I was hoping you guys would take some time and read them, and perhaps give me your thoughts.

When the spheres of sanity, start slowly slipping away;

we begin to realize who it is that we are.

We can't all be what ever we want to be,

we can only be who we are.

The hand that feeds is often bitten,

because it steals from hungry mouths

The subtle tombs of words unwritten

date back to the etchings in caves;

Illustrated by ancient visitors;

Deviated by the United States of Smoke and Mirrors

The paradox of complacency is murdering creativity.

The solemn sounds of defeated fathers.

The wimpering confessions of harlots for daughters.

The smoke screen, velveteen, though often mistaken for the sun's gleam;

shrouds us away from reality to focus on the lime light of the prize fight,

Brought to us for entetainment, though it only serves to further delude us.

When the juggernaut is dying away;

will you help to hasten the decay?

Or will you be among the bodies littered;

standing; confused; reticent; embittered?

I once was a believer in parlour tricks;

but quickly saw the wands were their dicks.

And the magic they spread to the population

Can be found in a Kleenex file under global copulation.