undiluted dribble

There are many questions, too many to ask I suppose. Like why do the tiniest of sounds sting the ear drum when all is quiet, but not at other times; just the same as the bite of some copious self truth on the ego's rear. Why do we resist if resistance is futile. Or why there's a battle in society of grace and acceptance versus self empowerment. Maybe they are one in the same.

I can't really say where this is budding to life from. It's probably just that portion of the lunar cycle where the view is angled just right as to see drama for it's ostentatious bright light. All I know is wishing to wake up as somebody else isn't profitable because one wouldn't know they were somebody else if they were no longer themselves. They'd just be somebody else and none the wiser of who they were before.