Blinding truth

In the room with the lights off, the corner, the dark matter, one light bulb in the room, no flicker, just died yesterday, in the room with the lights off, with the demons of my own concoction, thoughts like the train, passing by, bringing their pain, attachment, detachment, the philosophy, still can't get it, they say wrath comes gift wrapped with the ribbons and strings, covered with pretty things, witty things, thats how they get you, the senses becomes dented, rear ended, but you stay with it, like a prince and a fiddle, drowning at such a shallow puddle, sleeping with the mud, blowing collie buds just to escape the ego centric place, finding fidelity in land where people place pleasure on a pedestal, where our senses are like mad horses, the body is the frame of the carriage,  the intelligence is the driver, falling down the deep well, where fake make up and half naked bodies dwell, with souls that have let go of the horses reins and let their senses direct everything, with no control, the intellect shrinks, no wonder we have bastard baby kids with miscarriages among other things, politicians getting their thing on in the stalls where the public pees on, fathers with no history of fathers blindly fathering our new generations, mothers with no conscience, they stay heartless, skirtless and brainless, in the midst of the dark, like Bob marley said, the darkness has to amount to the lights, so stay alive