Toys in the Attic
Dear Diary,
Mockery seems to be my destination in life.
To mock and be mocked, that's the predicament.
Ever so Bard-like, this ephemeral quality of pointing fingers and laughing.
It has suffered mis-representation at the hands of many that are often foolishly goodwilled.
Aah! But for the blatant usefulness of acrid dialogue, this life would be utter (said -uttah) waste! Uttah, Uttah, Uttah.
Gee, that sentence had some serious potential but for its fanatic's war-cry like quality. Me, as a radical fundamentalist, whatever little mirth quotient it may possess, it certainly has some shock-value.
Quite like life itself. Rather like the unfairness of it. Shock is unfair.
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