Sitting in a hotel lobby, waiting for a thought, the lines across my sunken
face are full of karmic strain. The recluse monster lies within the sea of
paradise and waits to claim the ghostly rain that falls. So long Mrs. Asterbrook,
you taught me well and, as for the stories in your little books, they sent me straight to hell.
Lying doesn’t pay but choosing sides will win, but in the end, the victory is small.
So I sit in this sanctuary, self made, so complete, a Soulshine Prison,
staring at a light, or rather, a dim refraction of my brain’s translucence,
and I calculate the rhymes. And I realize that its no surprise. – Sinz