Life Under a Sun Roof

The sky feels oddly like glass.
But it's blue and white-clouded still.
The air aromizes strangely like pine,
but I never cross a pine on the road.

The only way to the future is containment.
Give me liberty or give me a phone signal.

Why I stopped being a philosopher
is that reality is the same outside as inside,
give or take a couple senses.

Strange game. The only way to win is to not play.

Not a single argument in the day star's radioactive rays will convert a bull into a hefer.

There are poets, chest-pounders, and analyzers.
But we all debate was is truth.
We came to truth through convenience.

What then does that signify for the value of truth?

The only way to win is to not fight,
but to remake the fabric of environment to weave up conditioning for the other mind.

"Democracy is two wolves and a lamb voting on what to have for lunch.
Liberty is a well-armed lamb contesting the vote."

They say that "In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.

And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep."
And Benjamin Franklin said, "Let there be electricity."
And there was.
And he was the one to quote what I just wrote above.

There is no principle to be known.
These things only exist in perception.
In your mind.

I am a phone.
I was raised by phones.
We host collect calls on Wednesdays.

I have a one track mind. It's called my wallpaper.

Why I stopped being a philosolophogist
is that reality is the same outside as inside,
give or take a couple senses.
So I prefer to be an absurdist
because a broken perception is the only fun to be had in the debate of what the world tastes like when you eat only the breath within your containmented sky.