Froopy Addendums

As hapless magicians bumble about in reckless confusion, we stand at before the abyss of our own uncertain future, unconvinced of our eternal infinite power. The deluge of nonsense must be overwhelming before anyone cares to mention we are drowning in our own debauchery. Still, amidst the bells and whistles of modern living, it could be argued that our wanton wastefulness is merely a phase in a series of phases that compromise the entirety of existence.

Really Bad Poem (with excruciatingly earnest intentions)

Lush is this textured trilobite
Amidst the glazed sunset
Love comes at the speed of light
And its good as it can get

Flush is more of what's not enough
Adrift in a haze of desire
Fulfillment is made of such stuff
Such a daze cannot acquire

Hush the world of reckless fervor
Absorbed with trivialities
Love comes at the speed of light
And forms everything we sees

"Wert thou more fickle than the restless sea,
Still should I love thee, knowing thee for such"
- William Morris (1834–1896)