The false.

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This morning I know the world is mad. I'm sat in McDonald's consuming a burger and a big mac. My first meal today. Waiting for Glenn to join me in Harrogate and battle against the maddening crowd of undone souls. Even the children of this world are mad. They are blank of realising. Something corrupt is present. Witless like the trembling mad. What vanishes into nothing within their something creates anything but truth. This indoctrination of sounds, sights and smells isn't what it appears to be. It is all false. My choice brought me to eat here, but maybe it wasn't a conscious choice. Between the Station and here I saw nothing real. The cenitaph consoles us who are terrified by the cacophony of galavanting mad. The stones permit this hell infernal and doors stand back while plastic bags proclaim a want of empty symbols and misheard drums. Why did this happen and how was I also caught by it for many many years. The cycles and patterns are a web that splays us formulated captured and beyond unilateral redemption. I must force this alone. I will be this alone. The truth is in me and I am learning it now.

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