Day 293: I need to start this again.

Let's consider this last month a much need hiatus to straighten out priorities that piled up like sky scrapers in twisted metal heaps creating archetypal idols made plain in city streets reading stocks quotes instead of bibles. Now grant me a moment to consolidate these worthless totems that we created for a leader that wasn't chosen freedom was stolen by the things that we kept unable to loosen grips that cling tightly to the ropes we wrapped around our own necks. And we hang at high noon as our shadow creates a hole for the escape of whatever has been left of our souls. And so we swing ornaments of a ghost town that sings in whispers of an age where we gilded everything and we were kings, but really we were slaves, tricked into feeling prosperous in the glitzed and glammoured age. When real wealth left us for dead after months of trying to help, instead of hunting for the truth we took the guns and aimed them at our selves.